


what they don't see

by acolonf6



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cartinelli Week, F/F, Modern Era, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4591062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acolonf6/pseuds/acolonf6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie is convinced that her new next door neighbor is a spy, and is determined to find proof of such.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“So, I’m pretty sure that my new next door neighbor is some kind of a spy,” Angie told Vera as she put her clothes in the washing machine next to Vera’s.

“A spy, Angie?” Vera said, looking up from her own pile of laundry, already skeptical. “Is this anything like the time you were absolutely positive that Miriam Fry had kidnapped Sarah’s puppy and it turned out he was just at the vet for an operation?”

“Mrs. Fry was adamant that this was a pet-free building when I moved in! That dog was a barker—and then suddenly, no barking! I still maintain that I was right when I said she would do something drastic when she found out,” Angie protested, gesturing with the dress in her hand for emphasis.

“She evicted her for violating the conditions of her lease. She didn’t hurt the poor dog,” Vera said. She went back to loading her laundry into the machine for a few moments before pausing, unable to resist. “Okay, so what do we know about the new neighbor? What’s your evidence for this spy theory?”

“Well, she’s British. I’ve heard her voice through the wall, and there’s definitely an accent there.”

“Through the wall? Angie,” Vera said, disappointed. “You haven’t even met her yet? Do you even know her name?”

“Well, not properly, but that’s the next bit of intel. When she first moved in the nameplate on her mailbox was typed up and it said M. Carter. Then, a few days later, it was changed, and it said _P_. Carter, and it was handwritten. Like she’s had to change her name for a secret identity or something.”

“Keeping the same last name isn’t a very solid cover. Next thing you’re going to be analyzing her handwriting on the nameplate.”

“She did have very nice handwriting, very neat. It was kinda annoyingly perfect, actually.”

“Angie, being British and having good handwriting does not make her a spy.”

“Except for the part where I caught her parkour-ing onto the balcony last night,” Angie said, just a tad smug.

“You saw her _what_ -ing onto the what now?” Vera said, incredulously.

“I heard a weird creaky noise outside my window last night, and I saw her hanging from the edge of her balcony, right next to mine, and she just pulled herself up like it was no big deal and slipped inside her apartment. She had no idea that I’d seen her,” Angie told her, excitedly. “She did it so easily, almost gracefully, she wasn’t panicking at all when she was dangling from the edge there, three stories up.”

“That is very…odd,” Vera conceded. “But it still does not mean that she’s a spy.”

“I’ll just have to convince you then. You know what that means?” Angie asked, slyly.

“What?”  Vera asked, already dreading Angie’s response.

“My mission for the next week is to gather more intel, and report back next Tuesday with more compelling evidence,” Angie told her, grinning. 

“So you’re going to spy on your neighbor to prove that your neighbor’s a spy?” Vera said slowly, already growing exhausted with Angie’s antics, and they’d barely started the wash cycle.

“Yep,” Angie gave a salute.

Angie had only moved into the building a few months ago. At 26, it was the first time she’d had her own place, away from her parents. Even in college, she’d lived at home and commuted. Vera was the only friend she’s made so far, and their relationship mostly consisted of greeting each other when they pass in the hallways and their standing laundry date on Tuesday evenings, when neither of them ever had anything better to do.

Angie told Vera plenty of stories about growing up in the Martinelli household, and between that and being an actress, Vera had decided that Angie was drama starved, and was making up stories wherever she could find them to save her from boredom.

Vera had also told Angie to stop watching so many conspiracy theory shows on the History channel late at night. This, of course, just made Angie even more determined to prove that she was right.

When not attending every audition she could get into, Angie worked at a diner a few blocks away from her apartment. After her shift the next day, she decided to buy a pie before heading home.

Angie knocked on the door directly next to hers, pie in hands, as soon as she returned to her building. When the door swung open, she suddenly regretted not changing out of her awful uniform. The woman standing in front of her was blindingly beautiful, and Angie was still wearing an apron. The glimpses Angie had caught of this woman before had not done her justice in the least.

“Hi,” Angie took a deep breath, trying not to stammer or sound nervous. Best to just barrel through it. “I’m Angie, I live next door. I realized I hadn’t really greeted you properly, or at all really, and I figured I oughta fix that and welcome you and introduce myself and all, so I brought you pie, so I hope you like pie,” Angie realized she was rambling, and cut herself off before it got too much worse. “It’s apple.”

Her new neighbor smiled at her in amusement, “Did you actually just welcome an Englishwoman to America with an apple pie?”

“Well, I was thinking more ‘Welcome to the building’ than ‘Welcome to the country,’ or maybe just ‘Welcome to New York,’ since I don’t know how long you’ve been in the city,” Angie told her. Her neighbor was still smiling, but she looked hesitant. “Come on, English. I promise it’s really good pie,” Angie said, waggling the pie in front of her. “I have to sing the praises of this pie at work all day and I never get to have any, so if you don’t want any I will be more than happy to take it back to my apartment and eat it all by myself.”

“It’s Peggy,” Peggy said with a small sigh as she opened the door fully and stood aside for Angie to come in. “It really does look like a nice pie.”


	2. Chapter 2

Peggy and Angie spend a long while talking that evening; talking and eating pie. Angie thinks that she found out a good bit about Peggy during their talk, but she later realizes that she did most of the talking, and Peggy didn’t reveal much about herself at all.

Angie talked about how she’d lived her whole life in the city, but she’d only just recently moved into her own apartment. She told stories about her Ma constantly threatening to drop in on her, and her parents learning to text to keep in touch now that she doesn’t live with them anymore. Some of her stories were exaggerated for effect, but Peggy didn’t have to know that part. Peggy said that she grew up in England, but that she’d been in the states for a while now. That was it. She didn’t even say anything about where in the country she’d lived before she’d moved into the building.

Angie had talked for ages about her job at the diner, about rude customers and lousy tippers. She told Peggy about auditioning for plays and musicals whenever she can, where directors are either completely skeevy or bored and overly dismissive. She told Peggy that about the auditions she’d been going on lately for web-series, and how Vera was sure that at least half of these were really for porn. All Peggy said about her job, when Angie asked directly was that she worked for Verizon’s corporate headquarters.

“Verizon? The phone company?” Angie asked. “What’s that like? Are you like an app developer or somethin’?”

“No, nothing as interesting as all that,” Peggy told her. “I work in the Human Resources department.”

Angie agreed internally that this didn’t sound particularly interesting, and they moved on to Angie ranting about one of her least favorite regulars at the diner. Peggy had laughed at all the right places, been outraged at all the right places, but the conversation had been very one-sided. Peggy had been such a good listener that Angie hadn’t realized how little Peggy had said.

When Angie realized, she was annoyed at herself for dominating the conversation. She was also annoyed that she hadn’t gathered any more intel to pass on to Vera. Personally, Angie thought this reticence to reveal too much information about herself was just more evidence that she was a spy; the truth about Peggy’s identity and her work was classified. However, Angie also knew what Vera would have to say about this theory: that Peggy is a private person who doesn’t like revealing too much about herself to people she just met, that not everyone is an open book like Angie, who will throw her underwear at people she’s known for less than an hour (“Vera, you can’t tell that story without mentioning that we met in the laundry room. It sounds weird out of context!” “Angie, it’s still weird in context.”). Angie clearly needed to talk to Peggy again to find out more.

The problem was that since that first night, Angie hadn’t been able to talk to Peggy more than in passing. Every time that Angie went over to Peggy’s apartment, Peggy was either already out, or just about to head out, or she wasn’t alone. This last option was the worst, because her visitors were always men. The first time it happened, Angie had knocked on Peggy’s door only to have it opened by a dark-haired man with a moustache and a suit that was far too nice for this neighborhood. He grinned at her in a way that was almost a leer and asked how he could help her. Before Angie could answer him, Peggy was shooing him away and scolding him for answering her door. Peggy apologized to Angie, saying that she was sorry she was unavailable to talk, but that she was quite busy. The man who kept peeking out from behind Peggy called out “Bye, Angie!” and oh, that was _definitely_ a leer.

It was odd to see men in the building like that. For some reason, the building was mostly women. Furthermore, all of the men who did live in the building lived on the first floor; no one really knew why. The building was primarily unattached young women, too. Apart from a few single mothers with small children, most of the residents were women much like Angie, not too long out of college and their families’ homes.

The second time it happened, Angie hadn’t even made it to the door before Peggy was rushing out of her apartment with a tall lanky man who had accent much like Peggy’s. They were so involved in whatever they were talking about that they nearly ran smack into Angie.

“Oh, Angie. I do apologize about that, I—” Peggy started with a smile, before being cut off by her stuffy friend.

“Ahem, if I may interrupt,” He said curtly. “Miss Angie, I’m afraid Ms. Carter and I have some urgent business to attend to.”

“Oh, yes, quite right,” Peggy said, remembering herself. “Sorry Angie, no time to chat.” The two were swiftly down the hall to the elevator before Angie had time to process the encounter.

The third time, Angie didn’t even see the guy, she just heard a man’s voice shouting in a language she didn’t recognize through their thin shared wall. Angie would have assumed it was just the television, except that she could hear Peggy’s voice shouting back, and she didn’t seem the type to yell at the TV.

It was all very inconvenient to Angie’s brilliant plan. She couldn’t find out more about Peggy if she couldn’t even get the woman alone for more than a moment.

The other reason Angie didn’t like this procession of male visitors was that it made Angie realize that she was interested in Peggy for reasons other than finding out if she was a spy.

The next time she attempted to go see Peggy, Peggy was just once again just about to head out the door. Peggy started to apologize again for being in a rush, but Angie, frustrated, cut her off.

“No, it’s fine. You know what? How about you just let me know when you find some free time when you can pencil me in to your busy, busy schedule,” Angie said in a huff, turning, with a dismissive wave, back to her own apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

Angie may have overreacted a bit. She knew had a tendency to do that sort of thing. She had what her friends sometimes called an obsessive personality. Angie preferred to think of herself as enthusiastic and passionate, but she knew that others could perceive that as overbearing.

She knew that Peggy didn’t owe her anything. When she stopped to think about it, she could reason that they weren’t really friends yet, that they hardly knew each other at all, really.

Maybe Vera was right, maybe Angie was just lonely and bored, and in need of a distraction, or a hobby that didn’t involve trying to spy on her hot neighbor.

After an audition that involved a particularly rigorous dance portion, Angie decided that she needed to start working out on a more regular basis to keep in shape. Competition in the New York City theatre world was serious business, and Angie needed to be in peak condition to stay in the running.

Since she no longer had access to a campus gym and couldn’t exactly afford a gym membership, she decided to become a jogger. That was a normal thing people did, right? She could run around the park. Maybe she’d become one of those half-marathon people who was always talking about her time in her last race—or maybe she’d be one of those people who felt like she was dying after a few laps around the block. 

Angie had gotten up extra early and everything, practically before the sun was up, in hopes that she could beat the heat and be finished with her work out before the day really got hot. She slicked back her hair into a tight ponytail to keep it off her neck and put on a loose white t-shirt that would help reflect the heat and still it wasn’t enough to keep her from being a panting sweaty mess in less than twenty minutes.

She finally made it back to her building after her last lap, and just as she was approaching the door, it opened from the inside and Peggy came out. Of course this would be the first time she saw Peggy since snapping at her in the hallway. And of course Peggy would look absolutely flawless with her perfect crimson lips and her well-tailored pencil skirt, clearly on her way to work. Angie was sure that she, on the other hand, was splotchy and red in the face, and dripping with so much sweat she was practically melting.

“Angie, we keep missing each other, don’t we?” Peggy said, pleasantly, holding the door open for a still out of breath Angie.

“Yeah, at this rate I’ll never get to introduce you to all of the pies New York has to offer,” Angie said, trying to smile brightly, but only managing something crooked and lopsided.

“Yes, I’ve been particularly busy of late. I haven’t had much leeway with my free time,” Peggy conceded. Then she clapped a hand on Angie’s shoulder and told her, “One has to have faith that these things will work out, darling.”

Angie looked at Peggy’s hand, and was too dumbfounded for a moment to respond.

“Oh, you know what,” Peggy said brightly, as she got an idea. “Why don’t I come to you? Tell me where this diner you work at is, and perhaps I’ll swing by on my lunch break sometime.”

Angie told her the name and address of the diner before letting Peggy go, and then dragging herself upstairs for a post-workout shower. Just when Angie thought she was getting over her little crush on Peggy, she had to be stupidly nice like that. Maybe she was just being polite though, posh English manners and all.

Angie only held onto that idea for a few more hours though; that very afternoon Peggy came into Angie’s diner at lunchtime during her shift. Angie waited on Peggy and flirted with her every time she went over to her table, and took every chance to chat a little bit in between checking on the other customers. She was pretty sure that Peggy was flirting back, and that Peggy wasn’t just being polite when she ordered the peach pie that Angie recommended.

And the cherry on top? Peggy was an _excellent_ tipper.


	4. Chapter 4

Peggy continued to come to the diner on her lunch break whenever Angie was working the lunch shift. They exchanged phone numbers, and Peggy would occasionally text to ask if Angie was working at the diner that day.

Once or twice Peggy brought her tall friend, whom she introduced as Jarvis, but most of the time she ate alone. Sometimes she sat at a table, and other times she sat up at the counter where Angie could chat with her more easily as Angie worked.

These conversations at the diner were the most contact they ever had, though. Whenever Angie tried to text Peggy to see if she was free, Peggy was inevitably busy. Angie didn’t get it, she thought they were getting closer, but Peggy was still keeping her distance. If Peggy disliked Angie or was annoyed with her, surely she would stop coming around the diner; and yet there she was, day after day.

One night, after Peggy declined Angie’s invitation to come watch an episode of Finding Bigfoot, Angie decided to show Peggy what she was missing. She sent minute-by-minute commentary on the episode to Peggy via text. Peggy didn’t respond to any of the texts, but the next day at the diner she referenced several of the messages, laughing, and told Angie how funny her running commentary had been, even if Peggy hadn’t understood a good bit of it, as she’d never seen an episode of the show herself. Angie thought this was a travesty, and told her so.

“We’ll have to fix that someday soon,” Angie said.

“Maybe,” Peggy said, with a small, almost sad smile. “Someday.”

After that, Peggy seemed to get quieter. She still came in for lunch, but she looked down more, and was more pensive. It only took a few days of this for Angie to decide that something was wrong.

Angie had listened for Peggy to get home, and as soon as she heard the key grinding in the lock next door, she was out of her own door and barreling in through Peggy’s. Peggy seemed so blindsided by the whirlwind that was Angie Martinelli that she didn’t even try to stop Angie.

“Alright, mopey. It’s time to get you out of this funk,” Angie said. “What’s it going to take to cheer you up?”

“Angie—” Peggy started, but Angie didn’t give her the chance.

“How about an impromptu dance party? What kind of music do you like?”

“Angie I really don’t—” Peggy tried again.

“Or maybe drowning your sorrows in alcohol is more your speed? I think I have a bottle of wine somewhere, and maybe some leftover schnapps,” Angie said thoughtfully.

“That doesn’t sound like—”

“Or maybe you just need to watch The Notebook and have a good cry, and once get it out of your system you’ll be fine. I got a cousin who does that every time she—”

“Angie!” Peggy shouted, it was her turn to cut Angie off for once. “Angie, I don’t think a soppy film is going to help me. I don’t need a quick fix.”

It was then that Angie finally noticed the rectangular object Peggy was holding, clinging to, really. Angie crossed to her slowly, and gently pried it from her grasp. It was a framed photo of a young man with blond hair, looking away from the camera. He was cute, if a bit skinny, if you were into that sort of thing.

“Oh,” Angie said softly. “I didn’t—who is he?”

Peggy cleared her throat, taking the photo back. “He was someone who was important to me. He was…he isn’t here anymore, but I still miss him,” She said primly, trying to hold back some wave of emotion. “I just need the time to miss him sometimes, and to think about him.”

Peggy replaced the photo on the table where it clearly belonged, and Angie noticed how sparsely decorated the apartment was. The last time Angie had spent any amount of time in Peggy’s apartment had been shortly after Peggy had moved in. Angie had assumed then that Peggy just hadn’t yet had the change to decorate, but the walls were still mostly bare; there were very few personal touches to the décor, with the notable exception of a single framed photo. Whoever he was, he mattered to Peggy, and Angie decided to respect that.

“Do you want to be alone?” Angie asked softly. “If not, I could stay. I won’t make you talk or nothing, we can just sit.”

Peggy looked down at the floor and said “Thank you, darling, for the offer, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll be alright.”

“Alright then, I’ll be right next door if you change your mind,” Angie said before heading towards the door.

Peggy stopped her before she got there. She gathered Angie up in a tight embrace. Angie was so surprised that it took her a moment to respond and wrap her arms around Peggy. “Thank you, truly, for being here,” Peggy whispered into Angie’s ear.

Then Angie was back in her own apartment, slightly dumbfounded. She wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but whatever it was, it felt important.


	5. Chapter 5

Peggy didn’t come in for lunch the next week, and Angie was afraid that she’d really messed something up. She had thought that she and Peggy had left things in a good place.

She sent Peggy a text, to check on her. _u cheating on me w/ another diner?_

The reply came a few hours later. _Sorry. Away on business. Will be back soon._

Angie tried not to feel hurt that Peggy didn’t tell her she was leaving. _i didn’t know. u need me to water ur plants or anything?_

This time the reply came almost immediately. _Last minute trip. No plants to water. Thanks._

Once she knew that Peggy was gone, the apartment next door did seem noticeably quieter. There were no subtle sounds of movement through the thin wall for the next few days.

Angie had to find other ways to occupy her time since seeing Peggy wasn’t even an option. She did her laundry with Vera on Tuesday night, and when she was getting her mail she ran into the landlady showing a new tenant around the building. The new tenant introduced herself as Dottie. Angie wasn’t too interested at first; another wide-eyed blonde girl from somewhere in the Midwest. Until, however, Dottie said that she had come to New York to be a dancer, in the ballet. Angie loved meeting other performers, especially when it was someone she wouldn’t be competing with for roles. Angie decided to keep an eye on Dottie, even if it was just to emulate her impeccable posture.

Despite knowing that the apartment next door was empty, Angie still kept her ears open for when Peggy returned. When Angie did hear something a few nights later, she was annoyed that Peggy hadn’t told her that she was back. Maybe she had only just got in and hadn’t had the time yet, Angie reasoned.

It sounded like Peggy was moving towards the back of the apartment, to the balcony, so Angie went out to her own balcony. She did it quietly, hoping to catch Peggy off guard and surprise her.

It was dark out on the “balcony.” It was practically just a glorified fire escape; it looked like the bottom half of a metal cage that had been bolted onto the side of the building outside of each apartment. It let their landlady advertise apartments with balconies, and thus charge more.

Actually stepping out onto the structure would inevitably lead to creaking, which would ruin the surprise, so Angie stayed inside and just leaned out. When the person in Peggy’s apartment slipped out onto the balcony, she didn’t make a sound, no creaking at all. Then she climbed up onto the railing of the balcony in one fluid motion, and leapt off into the darkness of the alleyway below.

Angie rushed out onto the balcony and looked down, but she didn’t see anyone. She looked up at the building across from her, but there was no one to be seen. The person who had been in Peggy’s apartment had been turned away from Angie, so she hadn’t been able to see their face. Angie was sure of two things, though. It had been a woman, and she had red hair.

Now the question was, had it been Peggy in a wig, or did her neighbor have a very nimble redheaded friend who left by the balcony?


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, after returning from her shift at the diner, Angie noticed definite bustling noises from Peggy’s apartment, along with multiple voices. She knocked on Peggy’s door, and Peggy herself answered it, though Angie could see two men lurking in the apartment behind Peggy; it was Jarvis, and the short flirty one whose name she never got.

“Angie, I’m afraid I just got back in, I don’t really have time to—” Peggy started, briskly.

“Have you got rid of her yet, Pegs?” Not-Jarvis said from inside the apartment.

“Howard!” Peggy scolded, right as Jarvis said “Mr. Stark!” Well that answered that question. Howard didn’t look chastised in the least; he just rolled his eyes and sat down on Peggy’s couch.

“You just got back? You definitely weren’t home last night, then?” Angie asked.

“Yes, as I said, and it was quite a long flight,” Peggy told her.

“Oh, well then I’m glad that you found someone to watch over your apartment for you while you were out,” Angie said, coyly.

“Watch over? Are you referring to yourself, Angie? I told you there was nothing to watch over here,” Peggy was clearly puzzled.

“No, your redheaded friend who was here last night. Does she usually use the balcony to come and go?” Angie cocked her head innocently, as though she failed to realize that anything was amiss.

Howard was up off the couch in an instant, and Jarvis started towards the door, as Peggy opened the door slightly wider to let Peggy in.

“Should we alert someone?” Jarvis asked. “Dooley? Or possibly Thompson?”

“Absolutely not,” Peggy said decisively. “Those idiots would inevitably make matters worse for me.”

“Not even Sousa?” asked Howard.

Peggy narrowed her eyes at him. “Just because you like him doesn’t mean that we all do. I still don’t trust him enough to bring him in on this.”

The three of them pressed Angie for every detail that she could remember of the previous night’s events. After Peggy decided that she’d gotten all of the information she could, she quickly tried to usher Angie from the apartment.

“What’s the big deal, anyway?” Angie asked. “Did she take anything? Is anything missing? And if it is, why aren’t I telling all this to the police?”

Peggy shared a quick glance with Howard and Jarvis. “It’s possible that they were trying to steal corporate secrets, but I don’t keep any valuable information in my apartment,” Peggy said.

“What kind of corporate secrets? You work for a phone company,” Angie asked, skeptically.

“I work for an international communications corporation, and I have access to important personnel records, amongst other thing,” Peggy explained.

It was almost convincing.

Angie wondered if she would have believed that story if she hadn’t already suspected Peggy of some duplicity.

“Whatever you say, English,” Angie said with a raised eyebrow.

The other three shared a wary look.

“Angie, it was lovely to see you, but I need to make a few phone calls now,” Peggy said, ushering Angie out of the apartment as she did so.

As annoyed as she was at getting the brush off like that, Angie was also a bit smug. So totally a spy. She couldn’t help but wonder who the intruder had been, and what she had been looking for.

The next day, as Angie was heading out for an audition, she ran into Dottie in the stairwell. Dottie asked what she was up to, and when Angie explained that she was going to an audition for a webseries adaptation of Othello, Dottie seemed very confused.

“I know, I don’t know how it’s going to work either,” Angie admitted. “But I’m up for any opportunity play a Shakespearean Heroine. Well, maybe heroine isn’t the right word, not even much of a lead, really, but it’s still a great role.”

“Anyway,” Dottie said sweetly, changing the subject. “I wanted to talk to you about running. I’ve seen you jogging around the neighborhood a few times.”

“You have?” Angie blushed. She still didn’t do it that often, and she preferred as few people to see her as possible. “I know my endurance is awful, but I’m trying to stay in shape.”

“Me, too!” Dottie said. “I have my dance classes, but I haven’t been working out much besides that since I got to the city. Jogging really isn’t my favorite workout routine, but gym memberships are so expensive here. That’s why I was wondering if I could run with you sometimes?”

“Oh! I, uhh,” Angie started, trying to decide how much of a commitment this would be. “I guess so? I don’t really see why not. I don’t really have a set routine or anything yet. I just run around until I start getting tired and then make my way back to the building. I don’t know what your schedule is like, but if you give me your number I could text you the next time I plan to go running.”

“This is going to be so much fun!” Dottie gushed, as she gave Angie her number. “It’s so much more enjoyable to exercise with a friend, and I really don’t know the city well enough to feel comfortable running around on my own just yet.”

“You’ll see, you’ll be giving tourists directions in no time,” Angie told her, trying to match Dottie’s enthusiasm. She looked at the number Dottie had entered into her phone. “Did you get a new phone when you moved?”

“Why do you ask?” Dottie asked, brows furrowed.

“Your number has a New York area code, they don’t really give those out in…” Angie trailed off, trying to remember which state Dottie was from.

“Oh, Iowa,” Dottie filled in, once she realized what Angie was angling for. “I thought it would make it less obvious that I was brand new to New York if I had a local number.”

Angie agreed that this seemed reasonable enough, especially if she was going to be auditioning frequently.

They started running together, at first sporadically, and then more regularly. Dottie was right, running with a buddy was way easier than going it alone. Angie was pretty sure that Dottie was holding herself back to keep pace with Angie, and that she would be able bolt off and leave Angie in the dust if she wanted to. She appreciated that Dottie chose to stay at Angie’s pace.

Angie found herself liking Dottie, laughing and joking with her as they ran, despite the fact that Dottie was one of those perfect assholes who still looked flawless after running all around the city for the better part of an hour. Dottie had lovely curly blonde hair that didn’t get horrendously frizzy when she sweat, if she was even capable of sweating, Angie wasn’t sure. Angie was usually an expert at spotting a dye job, but she was not sure this time. She thought it might be natural. If it was dyed it turned out way better than the time Angie tried going blonde when she first started out auditioning seriously. It suited Dottie, but with her bone structure and coloring, Angie figured Dottie could pull off just about any color she wanted. Angie was envious. Exactly one photo from middle school remained as evidence that Angie could not pull off red hair. At all.

Angie thought that she was getting over her infatuation with Peggy Carter, but really she was just distracting herself. The moment that she saw Peggy again, whether it was just in passing in the hallway, or whenever Peggy came into the diner for lunch, all of the warm fuzzy feelings would come rushing back to her.

This was never more evident than on the day when Angie left her apartment to find Peggy and another woman heading towards Peggy’s apartment. Peggy’s new companion was a pretty, petite woman, who had dark hair and delicate features. To make matters worse, this lovely lady was carrying a covered dish that looked an awful lot like a pie. It was one thing for Angie to be bringing these strange men around all of the time, but to bring another woman home _and_ a pie? That was definitely encroaching on Angie’s territory.

Angie went out of her way to introduce herself.

Peggy perked up when she saw Angie, and made very polite introductions, telling Angie that this was Ana, Ana _Jarvis_. And indeed, when Ana pulled her hand out from under the pie plate she was carrying to shake Angie’s hand, Angie noticed the ring adorning Ana’s finger.

“I made Peggy a Flódni to thank her for taking such good care of my husband,” Ana said, gesturing to the dish she carried. “I worry about him running around, doing who knows what for Howard Stark; he may pay well, but being his personal assistant sure isn’t an easy task.”

“Would you like to come in for a moment and join us?” Peggy asked. “We were just about to have a cup of coffee and cut into this lovely pastry Ana has made for me.”

“I was actually just about to head down to the basement to take care of my laundry,” Angie said, gesturing with the full basket of laundry under her arm. “If you don’t mind if I bring Vera, we might come up after we put our clothes in the wash.”

“Wonderful, the more the merrier,” Peggy told her with a smile.

Angie and Vera returned a few minutes later and before long, Angie was not only singing the praises of the sweet confection Ana had made, but declaring her intention to write sonnets for it. Angie wished that she had a one-percenter’s personal chef in her life all of the time. She also promised Ana that when she hit it big on Broadway and got rich and famous herself, she was going to steal Ana away from Howard Stark and Ana could just make pastries all day.

Angie caught Peggy smiling at her as they laugh over their coffees. Angie realized that this was the first time she had hung out with Peggy when it wasn’t just the two of them. Angie caught Peggy’s eye and smiled back at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody told me I'd been spelling Ana Jarvis's name wrong this whole time! I think I fixed all instances of this error, but feel free to let me know if I missed any.


	7. Chapter 7

Nearly every time Angie took the subway to or from an audition, she passed the stop that would take her back home. Whenever her train got near that stop, she thought about it. She thought about getting off at that stop and going back to the Martinelli home, always crammed full of family.

She would think about her Ma and her brothers, the kitchen full of warmth and love and good food.

She thought about loud voices and wide smiles, but that always led to thinking about loud voices turning mean. She thought about the family so full of love shouting words filled with hate. She always passed that subway stop by without getting off.

Her parents didn’t approve of many of her life choices, including her determination to pursue a career as an actress. Most of her extended family agreed with them, and none of them would help her out, wouldn’t even help her move when she decided to get her own place. Only her brother and one of her cousins helped her move into her new apartment; most of her family didn’t even have her new address.

This is one of the reasons Angie was so surprised to come home one day to find her mother talking to Peggy in the hallway outside her apartment.

“Angie, darling, you never told me how lovely your mother was,” Peggy said, as she saw Angie getting out of the elevator. Angie was frozen in place, her hand still in her bag where she had been digging around, halfway to finding her keys.

“Angela Martinelli, don’t you just stand there gapin’ at me like a fish,” her mother scolded. “Get over here and give your old mother a hug.”

Part of Angie wanted to brush past both women to her own door, ignoring the both of them in favor of going to take a nap. She didn’t though; she went over to be drawn into her mother’s warm embrace, and found that she was smiling despite herself.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, she noticed the casserole dish sitting on the floor next to the door of her apartment. She almost started crying when she saw it.

“Ma, you didn’t bring me lasagna, did ya?” Angie said, her face still buried in her mother’s shoulder.

“Of course I did!” Her mother said, holding her out at an arm’s length to look at her. “I know you’re not eatin’ good out here, not like at home.”

“Ma, I’m eating fine,” Angie swore, feeling herself blush. She knew Peggy was still watching this whole exchange.

Angie loved her mother, but she hadn’t been prepared to see her, and she wasn’t really in the mood to have it out with her Martinelli-style.

“Hey English,” Angie said, turning to Peggy. “You want to try the best lasagna on the planet?”

With Peggy there, Mrs. Martinelli stayed polite and only made a few passing remarks about how Angie was wasting her life chasing a pipe dream.

“Your friend Peggy tells me she’s an HR Manager at Verizon. Don’t that sound like a nice sensible job for a young lady?”

Angie just rolled her eyes, and considered telling her mother about her theory of what Peggy actually did for a living.

“Yeah, Ma,” Angie said. “It suits her, seeing as Peggy’s actually sensible.”

“Yes, because you on the other hand are so flighty and unstable,” Peggy said with a smirk. “It’s not as though you have a standing laundry date you never miss, or regularly scheduled work outs.”

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know that I am incredibly impulsive,” Angie said, fighting back a grin. “I’m not the one who sits down to lunch at exactly 12:07 pm every day of the week. I am a spontaneous actress.”

“You, Angie Martinelli, are a force of nature,” Peggy told her.

“Right back at ya, English.”

Angie’s mother clears her throat, reminding the other two that she was still in the room.

Once Peggy finished her lasagna, she tried to excuse herself to let Angie have some time with her mother on her own. That didn’t work out so well, as Mrs. Martinelli insisted that Peggy have seconds. After her second helping, though, Peggy tried again to excuse herself, and this time she succeeded in extricating herself from the Martinelli women, and went back to her own apartment.

“You should know, Ma,” Angie said as soon as Peggy was gone. “That the walls in these apartments are unbelievably thin. Anything you have to say to me is still gonna be shared with all my neighbors, including Peggy.”

“Ang, I’m not gonna yell at ya,” Her mother said, curtly. “But don’t think I didn’t see ya makin’ eyes at that _friend_ of yours. And so far as I could see, she was makin’ ‘em right back at ya.”

“Ma,” Angie whined, leaning back in her chair so she could roll her eyes at the ceiling.

“I’m just sayin’, whatever I can see, you know God can see it too, and more,” Angie’s mother crossed herself as she said it.

Angie groaned and put her face in her hands. She thought about telling her mother about some of the other women in her life. She could talk about the sweet ballerina, so easily corruptible, who she went running with a few times a week, and how she finished every run sweaty and giggling. She could tell her all about the black girl who was her weekly laundry date, and how they saw each other’s underwear every Tuesday night. About Mrs. Fry who was practically cultivating a Lesbian Paradise here in this building.

She didn’t though; Angie knew that baiting her mother would only make things worse, and besides that, she didn’t feel for any of those other women how she felt for Peggy. Even now, Angie hated lying to her mother; it just felt wrong. Unfortunately, she also couldn’t really talk to her mother about the truth, which led to her not talking much to her mother at all. She hoped that there was a happy medium out there somewhere, but she had yet to find it.


	8. Chapter 8

Angie had missed her mother, but she hadn’t missed the arguing. The Martinellis were constantly bickering, in one way or another. Angie thought she’d managed to escape that, at least for a while.

After her mother left, she texted Peggy to let her know there was plenty of leftover lasagna if she wanted any more of it. Peggy didn’t respond. Angie just wished Peggy would be consistent in her affections; flirting one moment and ignoring her the next was driving Angie bonkers.

Of course, Angie didn’t have much proof that Peggy was really flirting with her and not just being nice, just her own gut and her mother’s observations. That wasn’t exactly the most solid evidence. Whenever Angie was alone she resolved that she would do a better job of feeling Peggy out, and try and find out for sure how Peggy felt, but every time she was actually around Peggy that flew out the window. This also didn’t help her mission to find out if Peggy was lying about where she worked.

Angie renewed her efforts on one of those fronts the next time that Peggy sat up at the counter when she came into the diner for lunch.

“You’re always coming in to see me at work, and keep me company,” Angie said, leaning on her elbows on the counter across from Peggy.

“It’s hardly a chore on my part,” Peggy smiled at her. “Decent food, excellent service. The company isn’t so bad, either.”

“Makes me feel like I’m not keeping up my end of the bargain, I oughta come visit you at your work sometime.”

“I don’t think that’s a good plan,” Peggy’s smile dropped in an instant, and some of the color drained from her face.

“Aw, I’m not gonna bother your work, just keep you company like you do here,” Angie told her, trying to keep cheerful. “I promise I won’t even tell off any of those assholes you work with if I meet them.”

“Angie, that really won’t be possible,” Peggy said.

“Why? Don’t allow visitor’s at your work? What’s so secret about the phone company?” Angie knew her voice was getting indignant now, but she couldn’t help it.

“Angie, it is not going to happen,” Peggy said coldly. “So I would appreciate it if you would drop it.”

“Fine, then. Let me know if you need anything else,” Angie told her shortly. “I have other customers to check on.

She tried to paste a smile back onto her face, knowing she wouldn’t make any decent tips if she seemed rude with the other customers, too. It was hard, though. Peggy had never spoken to her like that. It had made her feel all cold and twisty inside. She didn’t like it at all.

Usually, the only person Angie talked to about Peggy was Vera, and even then it was mostly Angie reporting her latest findings on the spy thing, while Vera joked about Angie’s obvious crush. Angie couldn’t wait till Tuesday night, though, she needed to vent as soon as she could. Which is how Angie found herself ranting about Peggy to Dottie the next time they went for a run.

“She’s just so infuriating sometimes! I’m constantly going out of my way to spend time with her, and she just refuses to return the favor. She won’t even meet me halfway!” Angie said as they jogged around the park. Angie was much better at this than she had been when she and Dottie had started. Trying to talk and run without getting out of breath had been awful at the beginning.

“I don’t know her that well, but she does seem a bit snooty sometimes,” Dottie said. “She’s always polite enough, but you’re so nice and down to earth and she just isn’t like that at all. Maybe that’s just an English thing though? I don’t know too many people who are, you know, _foreign_ like that.”

Angie sighed and tried to decide if this was a conversation she wanted to pursue. She wasn’t quite sure how to course-correct Dottie’s way of thinking in a way that would make sense to the girl. It wasn’t the first time Dottie has made a comment like this, and she tried to remind herself that Dottie didn’t grow up in New York like she did. Dottie’s from the middle of fucking nowhere, and the longer she knew Dottie, the more apparent it was that the girl lived an incredibly sheltered life before moving here.

Angie had once asked Dottie “Is Dottie a real common name in…Iowa, was it?” Dottie had just said “Oh, it’s short for Dorothy!” as if that explained everything.

She had to tread lightly or risk confusing Dottie beyond belief.

“I don’t think it’s because Peggy isn’t American,” Angie said, trying to sound amicable. “I just don’t know what it _is_ that makes her act like this around me sometimes.”

“Maybe you just misunderstood her, I always have trouble understanding people when they have those funny accents,” Dottie said evenly. “I tried to get a coke from the deli down the street the other day, and I had to ask the cashier to repeat himself a half dozen times.”

“For fuck’s sake Dottie,” Angie snapped. “You’re not exactly the best judge of these things. You can’t even understand Molly’s accent, and she’s just from Queens!”

Dottie didn’t even say anything, just gave Angie a hurt look and took off running in the opposite direction. Angie threw up her arms and turned back towards home, giving up for the day.

When Tuesday rolled around, Angie ended up asking Vera for advice about Dottie in addition to Peggy.

“The longest interaction I’ve had with that girl was her asking if my hair was real in the elevator one time. I’m not touching that situation with a ten foot pole, you’re on your own with that one,” Vera told her.

“You’re no help at all,” Angie said, sitting down hard on the floor.

“Peggy, on the other hand? I have some things to say on that subject,” Vera crossed her arms and looked down at Angie.

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Angie asked, when she saw the steely look in Vera’s eyes. “Alright, lay it on me.”

“You need to stop this little investigation of yours,” Angie tried to protest, but Vera cut her off with a single finger held up. “You’re in too deep with your crush. You’re in too deep with spying on her, too, but you’ll be able to pull out of that one better than you’ll be able to stop liking her. If you don’t stop, at some point she’s going to find out that you’ve been looking into her. Even if she doesn’t find out, if something does end up happening between you two, you’ll be lying to her the whole time. Is that how you want to go about a relationship? No. So unless you want to come clean and tell her about all of your investigating, you need to put an end to it.”

“But I need to know! How am I supposed to find out the truth? I can’t start anything with her if I don’t know the truth!” Angie said.

“You’re supposed to be open and honest with her, and not go sneaking around behind her back trying to invade her privacy. This isn’t like checking out her facebook to see what she looked like in high school. You can’t expect her to tell you everything when you’ve been lying to her, too. You’re just supposed to be there for her, and if she wants to tell you then she’ll open up to you eventually.”

Angie held on for too long, refusing to budge, and she ended up fighting with Vera, too. She was fighting with everyone in her life, it feels like, and it didn’t feel nice. She resolved later that night to try and make up with everyone. She knew exactly where she would start. 


	9. Chapter 9

Angie went out to her balcony, and saw that the sun was setting over the city. She looked to the left and saw Peggy leaning on the rail of her own balcony, still in the nice dress she’d worn to work. She’d been wearing it when she came into the diner for lunch. They hadn’t talked as much as they usually did when Peggy came in. Angie wanted to make up, but there wasn’t really a chance to talk about it while she was working.

Peggy turned and blushed when she saw Angie behind her, across the short gap between the balconies. Peggy smiled, and Angie noticed that her red lipstick was still flawless at the end of the day. She needed Peggy to teach her how to get her lipstick to actually last like that.

“Do you think you could make the jump between these two balconies if you wanted to?” Angie asked. She was pretty sure she knew the answer already, but she wanted to know what Peggy would say.

“If I really wanted to, probably,” Peggy answered. “I can be quite light on my feet.”

“I’d lose my balance just standing before I even tried to make the leap,” Angie said.

“Why don’t you come over by the long route, then,” Peggy said. “It’s a bit safer that way.”

Angie couldn’t remember the last time Peggy invited her over, unprompted even, so she quickly obliged. Peggy opened the door to her apartment just as Angie was raising her fist to knock.

“Hello, again,” Peggy said.

“Hey, stranger,” Angie replied as she stepped inside.

Peggy cleared her throat awkwardly once Angie was standing next to Peggy’s couch.

“Would you like anything to drink? Or to eat?” Peggy asked. “I feel like you’re always fetching me food, and I so rarely return the favor.”

“I’m alright, plus you’re a good tipper, so I don’t really mind,” Angie said with a smile, as she sat down on the couch.

 “I’m, I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you the other day,” Peggy said as she sat down opposite from Angie. “I shouldn’t have been so short with you, it was very rude of me.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry for pushing you like that. I shouldn’t—I get that you’re private about some things, and that’s none of my business if you don’t wanna tell me,” Angie said. She took a pause, and then continued, quieter. “It’s just that, there’s a lot of things you don’t talk to me about, and it makes me feel like I really don’t know you very well at all. You’re hard to get to know.”

“You know more about me than most people,” Peggy told her. “You know more about me than anyone else in this building by a long shot. You probably know more about me than almost all of my coworkers. Even if the things you know seem trivial; my favorite kind of pie, how I take my coffee, my favorite color, my opinions on reality television, most people don’t make the effort to know even that about me.”

“I’d like to know more about you, anything you’re willing to tell me, but I won’t push anymore. I shouldn’t have done that,” Angie said, wanting to make sure she apologized thoroughly.

“Very few people truly know me well,” Peggy said as she stood and crossed to the table that held the framed photo. She picked the picture up, and gazed at it fondly. “The last person to really know me was Steve.” She handed the photo to Angie.

“He’s a cutie, your Steve,” Angie said, trying to smile.

 “This is what he looked like when we first met, when I first fell in love with him,” Her voice had gone soft, and it sounded a bit distant. “Though, he didn’t quite look like that anymore by the time we finally got together, and it’s not what he looked like when I saw him last. Still, this is how I prefer to remember him most. All of the other pictures I have of him are put away; most of them are of me as well, and I can’t bear to look at us happy like that, completely blind to what’s coming. We thought we were prepared for all of the possible eventualities, but we weren’t, not really.

“We were together for years. It felt like I knew him my whole life at times, but sometimes it felt like we were hardly together at all, particularly since we so rarely got to be in the same place for very long. He was in the military, and he was constantly overseas in one place or another. He never asked me to marry him, but if he had, I would have said yes in an instant. I would have married him that day, in front of no one but a witness and a judge, or I would have had a full Catholic wedding if that’s what he’d wanted. But he never asked. I think he was waiting until things calmed down a bit with our jobs, and things were more stable. When he settled down, he wanted to be able to really settle. We never got the chance, though. I was told that he was injured on some mission, and he was being flown to a hospital where he could recuperate properly.”

Peggy paused, and Angie could tell that she was struggling not to cry. Her eyes had begun to fill with tears, but she hadn’t let them spill over yet. Angie wasn’t sure how, she was sure she’d be bawling if she had to tell this story; she was nearly crying as it was. Peggy took a deep, cleansing breath, and continued.

“All I was told was that his plane went down over water; everything else is classified. They never recovered the plane, or any other evidence, so he’s still officially listed as Missing in Action. They refuse to acknowledge that he’s dead, that he’s gone for good and he’s not coming back,” Peggy started crying for real then, truly sobbing, with mascara running down her cheeks.

Angie moved towards her and gathered Peggy into her arms. She rubbed Peggy’s back gently, rocking slightly.

“I still think about him all the time, I still dream about him, and then wake up to find that he’s gone all over again,” Peggy said through her tears. “He was my best friend, and whenever I see something funny my first thought is still how much Steve would love that, and that I can’t wait to tell him. But I can’t. It’s one of the reasons I had to move; everything in my old place reminded me of Steve, but it turns out that everything everywhere reminds me of Steve."

Angie held onto Peggy until she was all cried out and she was ready to let go. Angie didn’t want to leave Peggy alone, but Peggy swore that she’d be alright, and thanked Angie for listening to her. They hugged one last time before Angie left and went back home. Angie lay awake for a long time, trying not to think of Peggy, sure that she was crying herself to sleep alone next door.


	10. Chapter 10

Angie felt emotionally exhausted when she woke the next day. She wasn’t entirely sure where she stood with Peggy, but she felt that they were closer than they had been. She felt that she understood Peggy significantly better than she had before knowing about Steve.

Angie couldn’t imagine what it must have been like, building a life with someone, thinking that you’d found the one you would spend the rest of your life with, and then to have them ripped away like that. It must have been devastating. Peggy hadn’t said how long it had been since she’d lost Steve, but it was plain to see that the pain was still fresh for Peggy, no matter how well she hid it most of the time.

Peggy had told Angie at one point that the worst part of it was never knowing exactly what happened, how everything went down in the end. For Peggy, it meant that she never really got a sense of closure. Until they told her 100% that they had found Steve’s body and that he was absolutely dead, part of her would always be waiting for Steve to show up on her doorstep, saying he was sorry he was so late.

Angie wasn’t sure how long she’d worked at her current job, but she doubted anyone she worked with knew about her loss. None of them would even think to ask.

Angie hoped to talk to Peggy more at lunch that day, but when Peggy came in, she wasn’t alone. Jarvis actually got there first, and Peggy slid into the booth with him a few minutes later. By the time Angie made her way over to their booth to take their order, Jarvis had already noticed something off with Peggy.

“How you doing, English?” Angie asked, smiling softly at Peggy.

“I’m holding up alright, darling. Not to worry,” Peggy told her. Then she turned to Jarvis. “I’ve told Angie about Steve. Well, not everything, but a good deal of it.”

“Oh,” Jarvis said, looking startled. “I see.”

“I didn’t realize you’d known him, too,” Angie said to Jarvis.

“Well, I never had the chance to meet Captain Rogers myself, unfortunately, but Mr. Stark and Ms. Carter speak fondly of him often enough that I know a good deal about the kind of man he was, and what a tragic loss his passing was to us all.”

Angie saw Peggy tense at Jarvis’s use of the word “passing;” to Peggy he was still just lost, and someone needed to find him.

She took their orders, and everything seemed to be going fine, but halfway through the meal, Peggy’s phone went off and her mood changed suddenly.

“There’s been an incident,” Peggy said, just barely loud enough that Angie heard. “Could you get this for me, Jarvis, quickly, and then get out.”

“Of course,” Jarvis said, already reaching for his wallet. “Take care of yourself, and don’t hesitate to let me know if I can do anything else to assist you.”

“Don’t worry,” Peggy said as she calmly grabbed her purse and stood up. “I can always take care of myself.”

Peggy quickly but smoothly strode towards the back of the diner, clearly heading for the back exit. Jarvis put a few bills on the table, clearly more than enough to pay for their meals, before walking out the front door a few moments later.

Angie wasn’t sure what had just happened, but not five minutes later, a half dozen men in nice yet nondescript suits came in, and started looking around as if they owned the place.

“Can I help you gentleman?” Angie asked cheerily, going up to them. She had on her best waitress voice and smile. “We’ve got the best cherry pie in the neighborhood if you’d like a slice.”

They barely looked at her as they conducted their search. Looking at them up close, she noticed that they were all decent, yet plain looking. None of them were bad looking, but she didn’t think she could’ve picked one of them out of a lineup.

They went all around the diner, into the bathrooms and the kitchens even, and Angie followed them as they went, asking if they were looking for something in particular, or if they wanted to speak to a manager. They ignored her, and eventually left, looking even surlier than when they’d come in.

Her shift was just about over then, and she all but ran back home. She banged on Peggy’s door, but there was no answer. She sent Peggy a text, asking if she was alright, asking where she was. Then she sent a picture she’d taken as sneakily as possible when the men had been conducting their search. She told Peggy that this pack had come in poking around just after she’d left.

Angie didn’t hear anything back from Peggy. She wished that she’d gotten Jarvis’s phone number, or Howard’s, or even Ana’s. Angie had trouble getting to sleep that night; she was still overcome with worry about Peggy. When she finally did get to sleep, it was a light, restless, fitful sleep. This was probably why she woke so easily when the commotion started up next door.

The first thing she became aware of was banging and rattling noises on the other side of the wall. Then she heard low, harsh voices. She got up out of bed and looked at the time. It was nearly 2:30 am. She started walking towards the balcony to see if she could figure out what was going on over there. She heard more voices on the way. One voice rose above the others, and she thought it said “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Carter!”

Carter. So Peggy was definitely over there. She got out to the balcony just in time to see someone slip out the door of the dark apartment and onto Peggy’s balcony.

“Peg? Is that you?” Angie whispered sharply.

Peggy looked up, clearly not expecting Angie to be here. Peggy smiled, looking relieved, and climbed up onto the rail, easily making the jump onto Angie’s balcony. Angie was getting ready to ask more questions, when Peggy put a finger to her lips in a signal for quiet, and then gave Angie a quick peck on the cheek before leaping over to the next balcony over. On the other side of the far balcony, she swung over the railing and dropped down into darkness. Angie lost sight of Peggy, and turned around towards Peggy’s apartment just in time to see the lights turn on in the previously darkened apartment. Several men spilled out onto the balcony then, and none of them looked like the men from the diner.

When they saw Angie, they immediately started shouting questions at her about what she was doing out here, and what she’d seen.

“What am I doing out here? What about you? Who even are you?” Angie shrieked, as loud and piercingly as she could. She had to channel her inner Miriam Fry. “Do you have any idea what time it is? What’s the big idea, disturbing a lady’s beauty rest like this? I’ve got a big day tomorrow, but do you care? No! You’re just running about yelling and causing a big fuss! I know none of you live over there, how’d you even get in! Don’t think I won’t be reporting this to the landlady. I’ve got half a mind to report you to the police for breaking and entering! Is this what this neighborhood’s turning into? Strange men breaking into a lady’s apartment at all hours of the night?”

Angie’s voice rose, growing more and more hysterical even as the men over on the next balcony tried to shush her in an effort to calm her down. She figured she’d probably woken half the building by then, and if Mrs. Fry had woken up she knew they wouldn’t be able to leave the building unharassed. Angie hoped that her antics had given Peggy enough time to get away.

Angie wasn’t sure what was going on, but she hoped that it would all be sorted out soon. She hoped that Peggy stayed safe, and would able to return. What had Peggy gotten herself into?


	11. Chapter 11

Peggy didn’t come back that week. Angie missed her, and worried about her. After a few days of not hearing anything from Peggy, Angie googled the address of Verizon’s corporate headquarters in New York. She didn’t really have a plan, figuring she’d make one up when she got there.

When she got there, she decided that the simplest route was probably the best; she went into the building and found a receptionist.

“I’m here to visit a friend of mine,” Angie told the receptionist. “But I don’t know where her office is.”

“What’s the name of the party you’re visiting?” The receptionist said in a clear, professional tone.

“Peggy Carter.” Angie said, and the receptionist started typing away, looking Peggy up in their system.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid we don’t have anyone by that name working in this building.”

“Margaret!” Angie said, suddenly remembering. “Peggy’s a nickname. Her real name’s Margaret Carter.”

“Sorry, no one matching that name, either,” the woman told her after another few clicks.

Deflated, Angie thanked the woman for her help and left.

Another two days of worrying and trying to think of what to do before she thought to google Howard Stark. When she realized that he was _that_ Stark, she felt like an idiot for not figuring it out sooner.

She called the number listed on the Stark Industries website, and got an automated menu. None of the options were what she wanted, so she opted to talk to an actual person, hoping that they could get her to Howard. Unfortunately, no amount of arguing that she really did know Howard and that it was urgent that she speak with him could convince the person on the other end to put her through to Howard Stark. The more she fought, the more obstinate the person on the other end became. She hung up. It took a few moments of searching through her brain—what was the name Ana had called him? She picked up the phone again and redialed.

“I need to speak with Edwin Jarvis, please. I’m afraid I don’t know his extension,” Angie told the operator in her best impression of Peggy’s accent.

“And who should I tell him is calling?” The operator asked.

“Tell him it’s Margaret Carter.”

Jarvis answered almost immediately.

“Who is this? I swear, if this is some sort of I prank I will—” Jarvis did not sound happy.

“Calm down, Mr. Fancy. It’s just Angie,” Angie said, dropping the fake accent. “I couldn’t think of any other way to let them put me through.”

“Oh, Miss Martinelli? What can I do for you?” Jarvis sounded calmer, but still quite confused.

“I’m worried about Peggy, I was wondering if you knew anything, anything that you could tell me, that is.”

“I’m afraid I can’t be of much help on that front,” Jarvis said, and he really did sound sorry about it. “I haven’t seen her since the day we were last at your diner.”

“You haven’t heard from her at all?” Angie asked, more disappointed than ever.

“Why don’t you give me your mobile number, and if I have any information I can share with you, I shall text you.”

“You text, Mr. Fancy?” Angie asked, a bit amused despite herself.

“Mr. Stark and Ana both prefer to text, so I have had to adjust,” Jarvis conceded. Angie laughed brightly, then sobered.

“I just want to know she’s alright,” she said.

“I know, me as well,” Jarvis admitted. “I’ll be in touch.”

She hoped he was telling the truth, any source of information was better than what she had now.

She didn’t hear anything from Jarvis, though. She was so distracted by her worry for Peggy that she didn’t even realize when Tuesday night came around until Vera knocked on her door to see where she was. She finally had some actual evidence that Peggy had been lying about her job, and she didn’t even want to tell Vera about it, she just wanted Peggy back.

Dottie noticed that Angie wasn’t herself, too. She was hardly paying attention to the story Dottie was telling about her audition, and when she asked Angie about Peggy, she could only mumble something about Peggy being away on business.

She wasn’t giving up hope, she was just sad and worried. She hadn’t been to any auditions recently, after she blew the last couple because she couldn’t focus. It was hurting her work at the diner as well, and it was showing in her tips.

Angie was still distracted walking home from work one night, so much so that she didn’t even see the dark shadow in the alley until it reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her into the alley. Angie nearly screamed, but a hand clamped over her mouth, and she saw that it was Peggy there in the shadows, looking a little worse for wear, but still just as gorgeous as always as far as Angie was concerned. Particularly since Angie wasn’t sure she’d ever see Peggy again.

“You came back,” Angie whispered, throwing her arms around Peggy’s neck, trying not to cry with relief.

“I did,” Peggy said, rubbing Angie’s back. “I’m here.”

“Where have you been?” Angie asked, holding Peggy out at an arm’s length to get a better look at her. “I’ve been worried sick about you!”

“I’ve been here and there,” Peggy said. “I was there, and now I’m here.”

“Peggy, I’m serious, those men in your apartment, who were they? Not even Jarvis could tell me what happened to you! I tried texting and calling and everything!”

“Yes, I did get a few of your messages before I had to get rid of my phone. Beyond that, I’m afraid I really can’t say. It’s all a bit complicated,” Peggy said. “It’s a very long story, which I really don’t have the time for. I can’t stay, but I had to come back to the city, and I wanted to see you one last time, even if it was just to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? Uh-uh, not happening English,” Angie said, holding Peggy tighter. “I just got you back, no way am I letting you go again.”

“I’m afraid you really don’t have much of a choice,” Peggy said sternly. “It isn’t safe for me here anymore, so unless you have a safe house that is capable of hiding me from every government agency known to man and then some—”

“As a matter of fact,” Angie said, a slow smile spreading across her face. “You came to just the right girl.”


	12. Chapter 12

“What do you mean?” Peggy asked, confused. “Do you know something that might help me? Angie, I don’t know that you understand the seriousness of the situation.”

“You mean the part where you’re a spy?” Angie asked dryly, an eyebrow raised.

“I don’t—how do you—” Peggy spluttered.

“I knew it! I was totally right!” Angie said. “I know you’re probably in a lot of trouble and you might actually have to go on the run and all, but I just need a moment to gloat, because I was actually totally right!”

“I will be asking you later how you found out,” Peggy said sternly. “But first I need to know what your plan is right now.”

“The Martinellis have connections,” Angie told her, cryptically. “I know places. Do you trust me?”

“I want to, Angie. I really do. I’ve trusted the wrong people before, though. I’ve been betrayed by people who I thought were on my side,” Peggy said pleadingly, taking Angie’s hands in her own.

“Not this time,” Angie said, squeezing Peggy’s hands. “We won’t be found, just stick with me.”

They hailed a cab, and Angie told the driver where she wanted them to go, down towards the docks. They got out a few blocks away from their destination and walked the rest of the way.

“You know how I have a thing for conspiracy theories and stuff?” Angie asked as they walked.

“You mean like your Bigfoot program?” Peggy said.

“Yeah, well I got that from my uncle, who was always real paranoid. He also passed it down to his son, who became a bigger conspiracy nut than the both of us.”

“And what does this have to do with our current predicament?” Peggy asked, clearly still skeptical.

“Because Cousin Ralphie doesn’t like the government being able to spy on him,” Angie explained. “So he needed a way to go completely off the grid if he wanted to. He doesn’t have an official permanent address, just a PO Box. And he lives on his boat.”

“So that’s where you’re taking me? Your cousin Ralphie’s boat?” Peggy asked, clearly trying to decide what she thought of this plan.

“He’d better be there, he spends a lot of time out in international waters.”

“Does your cousin really believe that he’s completely free of government detection?”

“He’s also real good with computers,” Angie told her. “He knows how to outfox them most of the time. If he didn’t, he’d have been in jail a long time ago.”

“He isn’t—how do I put this?” Peggy said delicately.

“Part of the Mob?” Angie guessed, bluntly. “No. Well, not officially, at least. He’s more of an independent contractor.”

“Ah, a true American, I see,” Peggy said.

“Here we are!” Angie said, approaching a moderate sized white houseboat. In the dim light she could just make out the red writing on the side that proclaimed it as the _Lady Liberty_. “Ralphie didn’t wanna name it anything too memorable, he says common and nondescript is always better.”

“Generally, he would be right about that,” Peggy agreed, as Angie went to board the boat and knock on its door.

“Who goes there?” The door of the boat’s cabin flew open just as Angie was stepping onto it. Angie’s cousin Ralphie stepped out, shotgun in his hand as he looked around at his visitors.

“Calm down, Ralphie, it’s just me,” Angie said, her hands raised.

“Jesus, Ang, you scared the shit outta me,” Ralphie said, putting the gun down. “It’s good to see ya and all, but what are you doing out here? You know you can’t be bringin’ your girlfriends around whenever you want. It’s the middle of the night!”

“I know, Ralphie, I’m sorry I didn’t call first or nothing, but my friend needs a place to lay low for a bit,” Angie said, nodding her head towards Peggy.

“Yeah, alright,” Ralphie sighed, never able to turn down family. “You can stay for the night, and we can talk more in the morning.”

Angie and Peggy boarded the Lady Liberty, and Ralphie took them inside the cabin. The living area featured a small kitchen, a space with a couch and a television, and doors that led off to a bedroom and bathroom. Ralphie led them back to the bedroom and told them they could stay back there, and he would hang out on the couch.

Peggy tried to protest, saying that she didn’t want to put him out, but Angie convinced her to relent, knowing that Ralphie probably spent half his nights on the couch anyway.

Once they were alone with the door closed, Angie sat down on the bed. She gestured to Peggy to indicate that she should sit as well. Peggy opted to remain standing

“Alright, now it’s time to talk. Spill,” Angie said.

“I hardly even know where to begin,” Peggy told her, still pacing. “Everything’s classified, but I don’t know how much that matters at the moment. I also don’t know what you know already. How did you manage to figure it out?”

“I caught you sneaking home the hard way; you were climbing onto your balcony,” Angie told her with a shrug. “That got me suspicious, and after that your story never seemed to line up. I don’t know much else, I just had to guess.”

“I see,” Peggy said. “What would you like to know?”

“Who do you even work for?” Angie asked. “I figure it must be one of those 3-letter agencies. CIA, FBI, NSA, or maybe you’re MI-6?”

“SSR,” Peggy said simply, as she finally stopped pacing.

“Never even heard of it,” Angie told her, shaking her head.

“Yes, and that’s the way we like it. It stands for Strategic Scientific Reserve. We are so covert that even most of the United States government knows we exist. And yes, we are a US agency.”

“So you’re like the secret-est of secret agents?” Angie asked, full of wonder.

“Something like that, I suppose,” Peggy said, and gave her a small salute. “Agent Carter, at your service.”

“Damn English, aren’t you something?” Angie said. “Now for the real question: what did you do? Or, rather, what do they think you did that’s got you in so much trouble?”

“It’s quite a long story. The short version is that we’ve known for some time that we have a mole within our organization. Information that should have been highly classified was leaked to those who would be our enemies, and certain physical evidence has gone missing as well. I was conducting my own investigation into finding the culprit, but just when I was finally getting close to finding out the truth, I discovered that I had put my faith in the wrong person.”

“You mean the asshole who sold you out?” Angie asked.

“Yes, one in the same,” Peggy said. “There was a doctor who worked with us, a psychiatrist. He worked with us primarily as a profiler. He’s a brilliant man, capable of working himself into the minds of others like no one else I’ve ever met. I thought that I could trust Dr. Ivchenko, so I told him what I was working on. It turns out, I gave him just enough information for him to figure out how to successfully frame me. That bastard was the mole all along.”

“And everyone bought it? That’s bullshit!” Angie exclaimed.

“Yes, I’m afraid I’m not the most respected agent at the SSR, despite having been with the organization much longer than Dr. Ivchenko,” Peggy said. “Those who knew of my previous relationship, and knew what a respected individual Steve was, assumed that he pulled strings to get me my position at the SSR, and that I wasn’t actually qualified to hold my position. Many of my coworkers were all too ready to believe that I was the mole.”

“So how do we exonerate you?” Angie asked eagerly.

“We? I don’t know if that’s a good idea, you’ve done more than enough to help me already,” Peggy told her. “People who help me have a tendency to get caught in the crossfire.”

“C’mon English, haven’t you figured out yet that I’m this for the long haul?” Angie said. “I’m with you, whether you like it or not, so you may as well let me help.”

Peggy sighed with resignation.

“Alright,” Peggy said, accepting what Angie said as truth. “Just how good is cousin Ralphie with computers, exactly?”


	13. Chapter 13

“Hey Ralphie,” Angie said, going back out into the main living area where her cousin was on the couch with his laptop. “How would you like to hack into a government agency so secret you’ve never even heard of it?”

“I think you underestimate how much I know about what the feds are trying to hide from us,” Ralphie said, sitting up.

“So you know of the Strategic Scientific Reserve, then,” Peggy said coolly.

“Um, Strategic Science, um,” Raphie said haltingly. Angie supposed he was trying to figure out if he could bluff his way through it. “What do these guys have on you, then?”

“Never mind that for the moment,” Peggy said dismissively. “The important thing is what I have on them. Or, rather, what I will have shortly. Do you think that you can get into their private servers from here?”

“What are you going to do to them?” Angie asked.

“Exactly what they did to me,” Peggy told them.

The amount of time between when Peggy had told Ivchenko about her investigation and when the SSR came looking for her had been awfully short. Short enough that Peggy suspected he had laid at least part of the trail that incriminated her in advance.

If Ivchenko had contingency plans in place beforehand, then he couldn’t have known that Peggy was the one he would have to use it against, that she was the one who would come the closest to discovering the truth. If so, then Ivchenko probably had multiple trails laid, all leading in different directions.

Sure enough, when Ralphie got into Ivchenko’s SSR account a few hours later, all of the evidence was there. Ivchenko even had drafts of emails written to various superiors, ready to blow the whistle on agents at the click of a button.

“Where do you want to start?” Ralphie asked, showing Peggy the screen.

“That one,” Peggy said, pointing at an email. “Agent Jack Thompson.”

“He the one who spilled coffee all over your favorite blouse last week?” Angie asked.

“Amongst other things,” Peggy said, bristling. “He’s also quite a respected agent at the SSR. People won’t want to believe it’s him, not like when all of the evidence pointed to me.”

“So what are they gonna think once we send this out? Won’t they just think you two were working together?” Angie asked.

“Not necessarily,” Peggy told her. “Some of the evidence in this file actually contradicts the evidence that they have against me. If it doesn’t exonerate me outright, it should at least cause a bit of confusion.”

“Would you like to do the honors, ma’am?” Ralphie asked Peggy. She hit send.

“What now?” Angie asked.

“Now we wait, it shouldn’t take too long. Even in the middle of the night, someone will be on duty.”

It took less than forty-five minutes for Angie to get a phone call from Jarvis.

“I was told by Mr. Stark to inform you that Ms. Carter may be returning to the city soon,” Jarvis said.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I told him that you were most likely asleep, but he seemed to think it best that I call you immediately.

“Is Howard there with you now?” Angie asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact he is. Would you like to speak with—Sir, you could ask before you—” Jarvis’s voice was cut off and replaced by Howard’s gruff greeting. Angie handed the phone over to Peggy wordlessly.

“Hello, Howard,” Peggy said. “Yes, it’s so wonderful to hear.”

Angie could only hear half of the conversation, but it sounded as though Howard had been accused of some sort of treason, as well, but new evidence had been found that exonerated him. When Peggy finally got off of the phone, she was steely-eyed, and more determined than ever.

“Alright, we’re not through yet,” She said, sternly. “There’s a mess of confusion at the SSR, but I’m not in the clear quite yet. Too much of the evidence still points in my direction.”

“So who’s next?” Ralphie asked.

“Sousa,” Peggy said. “He’s not as respected as Thompson, but everyone knows he’s squeaky-clean. It’ll be hard to swallow.”

“Oh! Can I do this one?” Angie asked. Peggy gave her a nod, and Angie leaned over to hit send.

Peggy was texting Howard using Angie’s phone, since she’d had to ditch her own. Twenty minutes after sending the Sousa email, they sent the one that incriminated Chief Dooley. Ten minutes after that, they sent through the final nail in the coffin, the one that implicated Agent Ray Krzeminski, who was now deceased. As many of the mole’s activities occurred after Krzeminski’s death, it seemed particularly unlikely that he had been the culprit.

By the time the sun rose, Peggy had an email waiting in her own inbox asking her to come in to speak with Chief Dooley regarding recent events. This was their signal that they’d succeeded. The SSR was going to begrudgingly apologize to her, congratulate her on discovering the real mole, and possibly even offer her a promotion. Peggy, in response, was going to tell them exactly where they could shove their apology, and their promotion.

Peggy had been talking it over with Howard, and she had decided that she was going to be resigning from her position at the SSR; apparently Howard had a much more interesting proposition for her consideration. She wouldn’t tell Angie anything more about it than that, though.

“All in good time, darling,” Peggy said. “All in good time.” Then she asked Ralphie if she could use his bathroom to freshen up a bit, as she had a very important meeting to get to.

Peggy had looked exhausted and rumpled all night, but when she came back out, using only whatever she found in Ralphie’s bathroom and the contents of her purse, she looked almost as good as new.

“Damn,” Ralphie said, when he saw her. “How’d you even do that?”

“You’re kinda magical, English,” Angie told her.

“Thank you,” Peggy said, looking down for a moment. “And thank you both for all of your assistance. I truly couldn’t have done it without you. I don’t know what the state of my apartment is, currently, so I’ll meet you back at your apartment, Angie, after my meeting. If you don’t have work, that is?”

“No,” Angie said, quickly. “I’ll be there. I’ll definitely be there.”

They said their goodbyes as Peggy prepared to leave, Ralphie giving her a quick salute.

“One last thing before I go,” Peggy said, pausing by the door. She took Angie’s face in her hands and kissed her soundly on the lips. “I’ll see you in a bit,” she said, and then she was out the door, gone into the city.

“Ang,” Ralphie said, taking Angie by the shoulders. “Your girlfriend’s a freakin super-spy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of the end of the main storyline, but there will be a couple of epilogue-y chapters forthcoming soon-ish.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the 6-month drought. Real life attacked not long after I finished the main body of the fic. At this point, I'm calling it a victory that I'm getting this up before season 2 is through.   
> This chapter isn't terribly fun, but not to worry! The next one will be happier.

The next few months of Peggy and Angie’s lives were a whirlwind. Unfortunately, their lives were mostly separate whirlwinds.

“I have good news!” Peggy said, one evening when she and Angie met up for dinner.

“What a coincidence,” Angie smiled. “So do I. You first, though.”

“Howard has acquired a property for our new project,” Peggy told her with a grin.

“Oh that’s great! So you finally settled on where to put it? I know Howard had his heart set on Manhattan, but I really think some of the outer boroughs have a lot of potential, too.”

Peggy’s smile drooped slightly. “Well, that’s the other part of our news. Howard and I finally stopped being stubborn and acknowledge what our problem was. We’ve both known for a while where our headquarters ought to be, we were just loath to admit it.”

“You’re scaring me, English. Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to be as excited about this part?” Angie asked, hesitantly.

“It’s in Washington,” Peggy said. “That’s where all of the action is, politically. That’s where our organization belongs.”

“Oh,” Angie knew her disappointment was written all over her face. “I guess that makes sense. DC has a lot of…important stuff happening.”

Peggy reached across the table and laid her hand on top of Angie’s. “I know it’s not New York, but I’d love it if you came with me. We could get our own place together, instead of just sharing a wall.”

“I can’t,” Angie said, sadly.       

“You can’t?” Peggy asked, looking crestfallen and slightly puzzled. “I know your family is here, but it’s really not that far, we could still visit whenever you like.”

“I got a job,” Angie tried to smile, but she knew it came out wrong. “I just got the call that I landed the role.”

“Oh Angie, that’s brilliant. I know you’ve worked so hard at all of those auditions,” Peggy said encouragingly, giving Angie’s hand a squeeze.

“But the job is here, the part is here,” Angie said. “If I was just waitressing at the diner, I’d jump at the chance to move in with you for real, even if I had to leave New York do it. But I’ve spent so much time auditioning constantly, and I feel like all of that effort is finally paying off, I can’t give up this part without giving it a chance. I have to see where this goes.”

“I understand that, Angie,” Peggy told her. “I want you to see it through if you feel that’s what you need to do. But just know that my offer still stands if you change your mind.”

The first few weeks after Peggy moved out of the apartment next door were interesting. In some ways it felt like Angie’s life had never been worse, but in others it felt like things had never been better.

Angie’s apartment felt too quiet, knowing that Peggy wasn’t next door. She and Peggy were in a good place in their relationship, though, even if they couldn’t be in the same place physically. They called each other and texted incessantly, but it wasn’t the same.

Angie had lost her running buddy, too. Dottie had moved out suddenly, without so much as a goodbye. Angie had tried to contact her, but all she got in reply was a vague text about “moving on.”

Angie would have been lonely if she hadn’t been so very busy. The project she had been cast in was a web-series adaptation of Alice in Wonderland. And she was Alice! It was a lead role!

The scenes she had read for her audition and her callback had been interesting and compelling. When rehearsals first started, in the whirlwind of meeting the rest of the cast in the crew, the project had seemed so promising.

It didn’t take long for things to go downhill, though. The scripts she was reading seemed like they were having to stretch the logic of the format further and further in order to stay connected to the source material.

As the weeks went on, it became clear that the producers were reaching the limits of their budget, and were scrambling to try and find a benefactor or a sponsor.

Then, suddenly, Angie was sitting in front of a camera wearing a cheap blonde wig, next to her White Rabbit counterpart, whose costume practically made her look like a Playmate. The actor who was portraying their Cheshire Cat was leering at them from just off-camera, and Angie felt a shudder go down her spine.

Angie was soon spending her nightly phone call with Peggy ranting about what had happened at that day’s rehearsals. Peggy, meanwhile, was having her own issues down in Washington.

“It turns out, the problem with having worked for an agency so secret that most of the government hasn’t heard of it, is that it doesn’t sound quite so impressive when you name drop them,” Peggy told her. “I had a senator ask me today whether the SSR was under the Department of Agriculture or the Department of the Interior.”

Angie laughed, “You’ll have to make your new organization slightly less secret than the last one. I want people to be intimidated when I tell them my girlfriend founded the—whatever you end up calling your thing. Any progress on the name front yet?”

“No, not yet. Howard refuses to budge on the three-letter issue. He insists that all of the best agencies have three letters, and then complains that all of the best initialisms have already been taken.”

“You’ve gotta admit, English,” Angie told her. “The three letter agencies are classic.”

“Yes, but isn’t the whole point of this that we want to be a new kind of government agency?” Peggy argued. “Shouldn’t we be trying to distinguish ourselves from the old guard?”

“Alright, something brand new and different,” Angie said. “Like a four letter agency?”

“Yes,” Peggy said with a small snort. “We’ll be the Federal Union of Covert Knowledge.”

“Exactly,” Angie agreed, smiling. “Or the Secret Homeland Intelligence Taskforce.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Howard tomorrow. He’ll want to call us the Strategic Taskforce on American Reconnaissance and Knowledge.”

“Right, because what that man needs is to name something else after himself,” Angie deadpanned.

Peggy laughed even louder at that. “I swear, every time some politician tries to recruit me to their own cause, I get worried that he’s going to make me wear a nametag that says ‘Property of Howard Stark.’”

“Hey! Do I have to come down there and sort him out?” Angie protested, mock-outraged. “Do I have to make you a sign that says…you know…‘Property of Nobody but Agent Peggy Carter and Occasionally On Loan to Angie Martinelli?’”

“That’s going to be an awfully large nametag. Might be a bit unwieldy,” Peggy teased her.

“It’ll work fine. If it doesn’t fit on a nametag we can just tattoo it on your back,” Angie said dismissively.

“Yes, of course,” Peggy said. “That makes perfect sense.

This was how most of their conversations went. They would start with ranting about their daily frustrations, but eventually dissolve into lighthearted teasing. Angie never failed to feel better after talking to Peggy, which just made her miss her girlfriend even more.

Even the smallest bit of communication could brighten her day. During her rehearsal the next afternoon, Angie got a text from Peggy that just said “ _Centrally United National Taskforce_.”

She was having an awful day, but Angie found that she was suddenly grinning as she sent back “ _That one doesn’t even make sense. Tell Howard he’s the Department of Intervention and Covert Knowledge._ ”

A few moments later, her phone buzzed again with “ _Howard says to stop being such an American Securities Summit._ ”

The memory of that short exchange was enough to keep Angie going through the rest of her excruciatingly long day of endless minor changes to her wardrobe, her makeup, her script, and her performance.

That evening, during her phone call with Peggy, Angie wasn’t as angry as usual, just somber and more quiet than was typical.

“Are you happy?” She asked softly. “Does your job make you happy?”

“Well,” Peggy started slowly. “I’m not a fan of having to kiss up to politicians all day. When I’m really doing my job though, when I’m able to help people and to save people, then yes. I love my job, and it makes me very happy to be able to do it.”

There was a long pause, during which neither of them said anything, just quietly listened to the other’s breathing over the line.

“What about you, Angie? Is your job making you happy?” Peggy asked tentatively.

“No,” Angie said, trying to keep the whining note out of her voice. “Not lately. I used to love performing, but lately I’ve been dreading going to work. I always end up so miserable at the end of the day.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. What does make you happy?” Peggy asked.

“You,” Angie said plaintively, feeling close to tears. She missed Peggy fiercely, and wished they could be in the same room for once.

“You make me very happy, too, darling,” Peggy said softly.

“I miss you,” Angie admitted. They said it to each other all the time, but never so earnestly, so desperately.

“I miss you, too. And I love you. You know that don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Angie said, her voice breaking. She sniffed loudly, trying to pull herself together. “I love you, too. So much.” They had never actually said it before, but that didn’t mean Angie didn’t know it, couldn’t feel it in every breath of their phone calls, every word of their texts.

Angie could hear a knocking from Peggy’s end of the phone call, and what sounded like Howard’s voice.

“I’m so sorry, darling, but I have to go,” Peggy apologized. “Howard managed to get us a dinner meeting with the assistant director of the CIA.”

“That’s great, English,” Angie said, trying to sound cheerful and encouraging. “Go get ‘em.”

“I’ll call you once I’m back, if our meeting doesn’t run too late,” Peggy promised.

“I’ll be here,” Angie told her. “Good luck.”

“Alright, goodbye. I love you.”

“I love you too, English. I’ll talk to you later.”

Angie hung up and sighed heavily, trying to figure out how to get herself out of this mess and back to Peggy.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just a couple K of domestic fluff. Because they deserve it, that's why.

In the end, Angie didn’t have to actually quit Wonderland. When the remaining budget dried up, the creators decided to throw the episodes they had made out into the internet in hopes of generating enough interest to either get a sponsor or start a crowdfunding campaign.

The problem with this plan was that the few episodes they had were absolutely awful, and thus the whole project went under. A few members of the cast and crew seemed truly devastated to see Wonderland end, and Angie couldn’t help but wonder if she would have felt differently about the series failing if it weren’t for Peggy. Angie had a gorgeous girlfriend waiting for her in a different state, and it was finally time to get her.

Peggy had been swamped down in DC with her own work, and they hadn’t had much of an opportunity to visit each other since moving apart. However, Peggy managed to tear herself away from whatever Important Secret Agent Business she had been taking care of and return to New York for a weekend in order to help Angie pack up her tiny apartment.

Howard had loaned Peggy a car for the occasion, since Angie didn’t really have enough stuff to warrant renting a moving van, but it was more than she felt comfortable taking with her on a bus. Angie had gone back to her parents’ house to pick up a few more things she thought she might need in DC. She went a few days before Peggy came up. Angie knew that if she’d asked, Peggy would have come with her, but Angie wasn’t ready for all of the Martinellis to pass judgement on her new relationship just yet.

When Peggy arrived, she swept Angie up in a hug so tight that she nearly lifted Angie off the ground, before kissing her lips.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Angie told her when they broke apart.

“I’ve missed you, too, darling,” Peggy said, before going in for another kiss.

After briefly getting distracted in each other’s lips and bodies, they managed to pull themselves together enough to get down to the business of packing the car up.

This led to bickering about packing styles; mostly Peggy deploring the sad state of Angie’s packing abilities. Peggy was a meticulous and efficient packer, while Angie’s preferred method involved throwing things in a box until nothing more fit into the box.

Once everything was packed to Peggy’s satisfaction, which took far longer than Angie thought necessary, they started the long drive down to DC.

The drive flew by, as they caught each other up on all the little things they never told each other over the phone or by text. A million little stories that were best told in person, with no barriers between them. They traded off driving every hour or so until they made it back to Peggy’s apartment.

“Damn, English,” Angie said in awe as she walked in the door. “The little tour you gave me on facetime did not do this place justice.” It was much larger and much nicer than either of their apartments in New York.

“It’s the ceilings,” Peggy said, looking up. “It’s hard to convey how spacious they make things feel.”

“I know we don’t like owing Howard Stark for anything, but—”

“Yes, I know,” Peggy told her. “Sometimes it’s nice to take advantage.”

Angie’s face lit up with glee, “Is the bed more impressive in person, too?” She asked mischievously.

The bed was indeed marvelous, but by the time they were done bringing all of Angie’s boxes up from the car and unpacking the essentials, they were too exhausted to use the bed for anything more than sleeping.

Angie had wanted to wake up before Peggy to surprise her with breakfast on their first morning together in this apartment, but Peggy is a machine, apparently, and woke up an ungodly hour. Angie was awakened by the whistling of a tea kettle. She shuffled sleepily into the kitchen to find Peggy guiltily holding the now silent kettle.

“I’m so sorry to wake you,” Peggy apologized, blushing slightly as she poured the water from the kettle into a teacup. “I didn’t even think about the kettle until it was too late.”

“It’s alright,” Angie mumbled, still not entirely awake. “Now I get to see you before you’re all primped and polished. I like this Peggy.” Angie gave Peggy a good morning kiss. It almost felt odd to be kissing Peggy’s unpainted lips. She was so used to the feel of Peggy’s ever-present crimson lipstick when they kissed.

Peggy ran a hand through her hair, and cringed slightly. “Yes, that’s right, I’m running slightly late,” Peggy said, putting down her teacup. “I didn’t seem to want to get out of bed this morning. I need to go finish getting ready. You can help yourself to anything you like for breakfast.”

As soon as Peggy left the kitchen and headed towards the bathroom, Angie realized that half of the gadgets in the kitchen were mysteries to her.

After getting ready, Peggy returned to a slightly smokier kitchen than the one she left.

“I think your fancy toaster’s broken,” Angie grimaced, shoving a blackened piece of toast towards her.

“I’ll show you around the kitchen properly when I get home,” Peggy promised with a smile, dropping a kiss onto Angie’s cheek.

“Do you really have to go to work today?” Angie asked. “I just got here!”

“I took off all day yesterday,” Peggy said. “I have to check in on Howard and make sure he hasn’t blown anything up in my absence. It should only be a half day, barring any major disasters.”

“Tell Howard I’m holding him personally responsible for keeping my girlfriend away from me if there are any disasters,” Angie called out as Peggy headed for the door.

“Duly noted,” Peggy replied, grabbing her hat on her way out. “I’m sure Howard will be shaking in his boots—or, well, in his loafers at any rate.”

Angie laughed as she waved goodbye to Peggy. Angie dumped her burnt toast in the trash and started unpacking the rest on her boxes.

Right at the top of one of the boxes, Angie found the to do list she had been making of things she needed to be doing now that she was in DC. She kept finding more items to put on the list that she’d forgotten about.

Most of the things on the list were geared towards finding work. She also needed to one of those smart trip farecard thingies for the metro. The metro, not the subway, she reminded herself. She also needed Peggy to teach her to use the fancy thermostat, because it was getting colder and colder in the apartment, and Angie had no idea how to fix it. She spent a good ten minutes fiddling with all of the various controls to no avail. Then she tried googling the model number, hoping she would find some instructions there, but nothing she found was helpful. There may have been some sort of a lock on the thing.

“Who the hell password protects their freakin’ thermostat?” Angie asked aloud to the empty apartment. “Rich people are the weirdest,” she mumbled.

Angie found a cozy looking sweater, cornflower blue, on the back of the chair. She put it on, inhaling Peggy’s familiar scent off of it, and got back to work.

She spent some time looking for local auditions online, then went back to unpacking. By the time Peggy got home from work, Angie, exhausted, was napping on the couch in a patch of sunlight, curled up like a cat.

Peggy placed a hand on Angie’s shoulder and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead.

“Is that my jumper?” Peggy asked.

“It looks much better on me,” Angie said, burrowing deeper into the slouchy sweater.

“I don’t disagree,” Peggy said with a sly smile. She went over to the thermostat, and hit a few buttons. The sound of the heat kicking on came almost immediately.

“How did you do that?” Angie asked, sitting upright, suddenly very awake.

“It’s on a timer,” Peggy said, cringing apologetically. “It goes off automatically during the hours I’m typically at work. I forgot to show you how to override it this morning.”

Angie just shook her head, smiling. “C’mon, English, it’s time to show me around the kitchen.”

Over the next few weeks, when Peggy wasn’t working she took Angie to her favorite places in the city, and showed her around their neighborhood. While Peggy was at work, Angie wandered around on her own, familiarizing herself with different areas of the city. During the evenings, they would go see productions put on at various local theatres, in an effort to scope out the DC theatre scene in person.

Angie started going on auditions, and began to see the same faces at different auditions. A few girls she recognized would give her friendly smiles when they saw her. The thought of making new friends here made her feel warm inside. She was starting to feel like she could really make a home in this new city.

Angie was also gathering applications for waitressing jobs all over the city, but she hadn’t filled any of them out, not yet.

For the time being, since Howard owned their apartment, and Peggy was paying for their groceries, Angie didn’t exactly have a ton of bills to pay. However, that didn’t mean that she could afford to go without any money coming in for much longer. So, she kept going on auditions, and she kept gathering applications.

“Do you think Howard could get me an interview at that ritzy bar on the Hill he took us to?” Angie asked Peggy one day, after Peggy came home from work. “I bet you can make a fortune in tips at that place.”

“I thought you were going to hold off on getting a day job,” Peggy said. “You’re not giving up on DC theatre already, are you?”

“I promise, I’m not giving up, but I need to pay for new headshots,” Angie told her, grimacing.

“What’s wrong with your current headshots? I think you look lovely in them.”

“Yeah, but apparently they’re _too New York_ ,” Angie said, pulling a face and affecting a funny voice.

“What does that even mean?” Peggy asked.

“Beats me,” Angie shrugged. “But after three different casting directors have told me so, I guess they want something different around here. I’m hoping the right photographer will know what they’re looking for. I’ve been asking around, trying to find out who’s the best around here.”

Angie did end up getting a job at a place the Hill recommended by Howard, but not the swanky bar.

“You don’t want to be working around all those politicians when they’re drunk and extra handsy,” Howard had told her. Angie couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the idea of Howard Stark admonishing someone else for being too handsy.

He instead recommended her to an upscale café and bakery known as being excellent for brunch. This was not a Starbucks-esque establishment where people came in, ordered their coffee, and left with a to-go cup. No, this was a place where people actually sat down and took the time to enjoy their meal.

The biggest downside to this job, in Angie’s view, was that she was constantly surrounded by morning people.

The biggest upside, however, was that the café was in the same direction from their apartment as Peggy’s office, so they got into the habit of riding the metro together as they went into work in the mornings. They would sit next to each other, Angie frequently resting her head on Peggy’s shoulder as their compartment rocked, before they had to part ways to head to their separate destinations. That extra bit of time together felt indescribably nice.

A few weeks later, when Angie got proofs of her new headshots back, she spread them out across the kitchen table to study them, trying to decide which ones she wanted copies of to use for auditions.

Peggy came up behind her and looked at the pictures over her shoulder.

“Any advice on which one you think I should pick?” Angie asked.

“I think you look lovely in all of them, but I may be a bit biased,” Peggy said, pressing a kiss to Angie’s cheek. “I do especially like this one, though.”

Angie took a closer look at the photo Peggy was pointing to. It was one of the ones they had taken outdoors. It was a three-quarters shot of Angie with her head tilted downwards, but her eyes were looking up. The photo was partially backlit, with the sun spilling out behind her, illuminating her profile.

“Shows what you know,” Angie told her. “That one’s all wrong for a headshot, it looks way too artsy.”

“Their loss,” Peggy said. “Tell the photographer your girlfriend wants a copy of that one.”

Angie rolled her eyes, but she made a note of which photo it was, nonetheless.

After Angie started using her new headshots, she almost immediately started getting better results at auditions. More callbacks, callbacks for bigger roles, casting directors remembering her name, there were improvements across the board.

When Angie landed a callback for a new play written by a local playwright, she stayed up half the night preparing. The scenes she had read so far were brilliant, and she really wanted this one, more than she had wanted a specific part in a while.

Peggy happened to be working late that night, as well. She was at her laptop in the living room, as Angie paced around the apartment nervously. Peggy refused to tell Angie exactly what she was working on, beyond that it was confidential and vital and time-sensitive.

Angie suspected it involved something happening in a different time zone, but Peggy refused to divulge even that much.

“Shouldn’t you be getting a good night’s sleep, so that you’re well rested for tomorrow?” Peggy asked, after growing tired of Angie’s restlessness. She had been alternately pacing, sitting in one place and staring at her script, and locking herself in various corners of the apartment to work on her delivery.

“But what if my interpretation of this scene is completely different from how the director wants it played?” Angie asked. “I need to have at least two back-up options in case he wants me to redo it.”

Peggy didn’t say anything, just sighed and got up to turn on the fancy coffee machine, despite the fact that it was nearly midnight. It didn’t seem like either of them was going to be getting much sleep that night.

When they finally went to bed, Peggy curled around Angie extra tight, and Angie gripped Peggy’s hands tightly within her own.

 “You’re going to be brilliant tomorrow,” Peggy whispered into Angie’s ear. “I just know it. I love you.”

“Thanks, I love you, too,” Angie whispered back, relaxing her grip slightly on Peggy’s hands.

The callback went great, and Angie was pretty sure that even if she hadn’t gotten the role she had her heart set on, she would get one of the smaller background roles. When she got the call a few days later that she had, in fact, been cast in the role she wanted, the large role, with pages and pages of actual lines to memorize, the first thing she did was go straight to Peggy’s office.

Angie hadn’t been there often, what with all of the secret covert stuff they were aiming to do, but they weren’t actually up and running yet, so Peggy’s office was still deemed public enough that Angie could visit.

When she got there, Peggy was in Howard’s office on some sort of conference call, but Jarvis was there, and he ushered her into Peggy’s office, telling her she was free to wait there until Peggy was finished.

Peggy’s office was fairly sparsely decorated, and there was nothing flashy about any of it, but it was nice, and there were large windows behind her desk looking out onto the city. Angie went over and sat in the chair behind her desk, and was slightly surprised to see her own face looking back at her. There were only two personal items on Peggy’s desk; the treasured old picture of Steve, and right next to it, the picture of Angie from her new headshots.

She was still staring at the pictures when Peggy came back to her office.

“Angie, what are you doing here in the middle of the day?” Peggy asked, surprised but smiling.

“Oh, um, I got the part,” Angie said, tearing her gaze away from the pictures. “I wanted to tell you right away.”

“Oh that’s excellent, darling. Let me take you out to lunch to celebrate,” Peggy said enthusiastically, and then paused. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Angie said. “Yeah, I just didn’t realize that you had this picture here.”

Peggy came around her desk, looking at the pictures Angie was gesturing to, and set a comforting hand on Angie’s shoulder.

“Well, the two people I care about most in the world,” Peggy said. “Seemed only fitting to have them right next to each other here.”

Angie took Peggy’s hand from where it lay on her shoulder and pressed a kiss to it.

“I know no one can ever replace Steve and what he meant to you,” Angie told Peggy, standing up and meeting her gaze firmly. “But I am truly honored to have a place next to him. Come on, let’s go to lunch.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few short chapters I said. It'll be quick I said. Suddenly, the "epilogue" is more than a third of the total fic length.  
> Whatever, whatever. Here, have a few thousand words of me tying up loose ends.

Peggy was trying to leave her work at work. When she came home, she wanted to enjoy spending her time with Angie and not worry about the rest of it.

Peggy was having some marginal success with this tactic, but Angie was getting used to Peggy having to drop everything in order to deal with something work related at a moment’s notice.

Even so, it was out of the ordinary for Angie to come home from rehearsal to find both Howard and Jarvis in her apartment arguing with Peggy.

Well, Howard was arguing with Peggy; Jarvis was in the kitchen making tea and trying not to get involved. He immediately offered Angie a cup Earl Grey when she walked in.

She turned him down in favor of trying to figure out what Peggy and Howard were talking about.

“…I finally got free of that place, and now you want to drag all of the same awful people and awful policies into our new division?” Peggy was practically shouting. “Howard, we were supposed to be doing things differently this time, wasn’t that the whole point of this?”

“Peg we’re not bringing the whole SSR here, I want one guy,” Howard protested. “We need more staff than one inventor and one spy. You can’t fight the whole world all at once!”

“Oh can’t I?” Peggy said. She paused, and took a breath. “I may not be able to do this all on my own, but I don’t need him to help me.”

“But Sousa brings the Strategic with him!” Howard argued. “If we steal Sousa, we can feel justified in stealing the Strategic!”

“Oh we don’t need Daniel Sousa for that,” Peggy said dismissively. “From what I hear, we wouldn’t so much be stealing as we would be recycling unwanted parts. The whole organization is crumbling down around them. Besides that, if we’re going to steal from the SSR, we may as well steal people who were actually competent at their jobs, like Rose.”

“Rose? The secretary?” Howard asked, clearly skeptical.

“Rose is the Executive Administrative Assistant to the Chief of the SSR, coordinates more information than any other individual in that organization, and can get an astounding amount of information out of a person without them even realizing it. We could do a lot worse than Rose,” Peggy countered.

“Alright, we’ll get Rose,” Howard conceded. “Do you think she’ll even wanna come? Leave the SSR for us?”

“I don’t think she’ll be terribly hard to convince,” Peggy said with a smirk.

“This Rose sounds great,” Angie said, leaning on the kitchen counter. “Do I have some competition here?”

“Not to worry,” Peggy reassured her, taking notice of Angie fully for the first time. “Rose is more of a wise aunt figure than anything else.” Peggy gave Angie a sly wink.

 

Rose came down to Washington for an interview less than a week later, and it turned out Peggy was right; Rose was all too eager to jump ship and come work for Peggy. After they hashed out a deal, Peggy insisted on taking Rose out to lunch, and invited Angie along as well so that she and Rose could meet.

Angie took to Rose right away; she could see exactly what Peggy had meant about her.

Now that the business of the interview was done, Rose spared no time getting Peggy caught up on all of the non-confidential gossip from the SSR from the months since she’d left.

“Having left so soon after getting my name cleared, I can’t imagine they have the kindest things to say about me,” Peggy ventured.

Rose responded with a sour facial expression that suggested Peggy was correct.

“Are you worried they’re going to do the same to you once you’re gone?” Angie asked Rose.

“Well, we’ll see how much longer the SSR is around for them to badmouth their former employees,” Rose said.

“Oh?” Peggy prompted.

“With both of us gone they’ll be playing ‘How many SSR agents does it take to turn on the lights?’” Rose joked. “Half of them will be knocking on your door for a job within the next few months I’d bet.”

“Is it really that bad there?” Angie asked.

“Well, a lot of it is still the fallout from the whole Ivchenko incident,” Rose explained. “Nobody really trusts each other anymore. You wouldn’t believe some of the nasty rumors I’ve heard being spread back and forth, almost none of them true.”

“Did Howard tell you he wants to court Sousa for us?” Peggy asked. “How’s he holding up? I know he’s been targeted before.”

“That boy,” Rose rolled her eyes, and even Angie could tell they were gearing up for a good story. “Who knows what he’s thinking these days. I’m not sure he’s paying enough attention to notice anything they’re saying about him.”

“Why? What’s going on with him?” Angie couldn’t resist asking.

“Well, right after you left Peggy, they hired your _replacement_ ” Rose said it with such a scowl, that there was no doubting how she felt about this new employee. “Her name is Maggie Overhill, she’s cute as a button and smart as a whip, the whole nine yards. She’s got great instincts in the field, I hear. For a minute I thought we were going to get along great, but she’s hardly said a word to me the whole time she’s been there. I would be surprised if she even knows my name. What she did do, the moment she got to the SSR was buddy up to Agent Sousa. He’s only had eyes for her ever since. They’re practically inseparable.”

“Huh,” Peggy said when Rose paused. “I didn’t really see that coming from him. Thompson maybe, Kreszminski definitely, but not Sousa.”

“I swear, he’s like a whole different person since she’s been around,” Rose said, before reaching into her purse for her phone. “I don’t have to worry about violating any sort of non-disclosure since this is on _facebook_ for Christ’s sake, but here. Get a load of this.”

Rose passed the phone to Peggy, who took it, and looked truly startled when she saw what was on the screen.

“What do you make of that?” Peggy asked, passing the phone to Angie.

Angie gasped, “How dare she look that good as a brunette!”

The pictured clearly showed a man Angie assumed must be Agent Sousa gazing at woman who looked suspiciously like a dark-haired Dottie Underwood.

“Do—do you two know Maggie?” Rose asked, clearly confused.

“Well, possibly. We didn’t know her as Maggie, and we certainly didn’t know her as someone who would make a suitable agent,” Peggy explained.

“I bet she’s not a ballet dancer at all,” Angie grumbled, before gasping again. “I bet she’s not even from Iowa! And I’m definitely starting to doubt whether she was a natural blonde.”

Peggy threw her a glare that said they had more important things to worry about at the moment, but Angie wasn’t particularly dissuaded.

“Oh I would make the worst spy ever,” Angie lamented. “We were jogging buddies for months, and I had no idea! What if she was the one who I heard in your apartment that time? What if she’s a spy and she was secretly working with Ivchenko and now she’s picking up where he left off after she got caught?”

“Angie, Darling, you’re spiraling,” Peggy said.

“Hey, I was right about you, I could be right about this!” Angie protested.

“What are the odds that two spies just happen to move into the same apartment building in New York?” Peggy asked, trying to reason with her.

“Well clearly that wasn’t an accident,” Angie said. “She was targeting you, hoping to get close to you, but when you left the SSR she had to move on to a new target.”

“Honestly,” Rose interjected. “Nothing would surprise me at this point.”

They ended up cutting their lunch a bit shorter than it otherwise would have been. They were all eager to get back to the office and get to work finding out what they could about Dottie Underwood and what she had been up to.

Ordinarily, that would have been the point where Angie would have to be cut out of the top-secret proceedings, but as Angie was the one who had spent the most time with Dottie, she might be a useful source of information.

When they got back to Peggy’s office, Jarvis was in the lobby supervising a couple of workmen who were installing a sign of some sort on the wall, as Howard watched on. He didn’t appear to be doing anything particularly; he just stood there looking important and imposing.

“Oh, Howard, what have you done now?” Peggy said when she saw what was going on.

Howard snapped to attention and smiled at the three women coming in. “It’s our sign!” He said proudly. “Now that we’ve successfully stolen the Strategic, I figured it was finally time to make it official,” He gestured grandly to Rose, who blushed slightly under the full power of a beaming Howard Stark.

“Does that mean that you finally settled on a name?” Angie asked.

“I was wondering about that, too,” Rose added. “You were very vague about that during the interview.”

“Sir, I believe we’re just about finished,” Jarvis interjected. The still covered sign was now fully mounted on the wall.”

“Yes, we do officially have a name now,” Peggy said, a hint of a smile playing at her lips.

“We ended up going with a six-letter name for our agency,” Howard added with a wink. “Twice as good as those three-letter hacks.”

“Ladies,” Peggy said, struggling to contain her excitement at finally getting to make the big reveal. “I would like to formally welcome you to the offices of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

Angie was about to open her mouth to say something snarky about what a mouthful that name was, when Jarvis whipped the covering off of the sign, and the clever words died in her throat, leaving nothing but a soft _oh_ of wonder behind.

The sign did indeed say the agency’s full name across the bottom, but above that were foot-high silver letters, which spelled out S.H.I.E.L.D.

“That’s a pretty good name, Peg,” Angie said earnestly, slinging an arm around Peggy’s waist and pulling her in close.

 

Peggy took Howard and Rose into her office to brief them on the situation, while Jarvis took Angie into a small room that would eventually be used for interrogation and interviewing. Peggy had told him that he was to “take a statement” from Angie, but hadn’t told him anything else. Angie explained the Dottie situation, and Jarvis quickly began taking notes. He asked a few questions about her interactions with Dottie before leaving to consult with the others about what exactly they needed to know. This left Angie alone to search her memory for any significant tidbits.

When Jarvis returned, he had more specific questions, mostly about if she’d ever slipped up and given a clue who she really was or who she was working for. Angie mostly just remembered Dottie being weirdly xenophobic. Jarvis left and came back a few more times, until finally he left and Peggy returned, looking exhausted and annoyed.

“Investigation not going too well, English?” Angie asked.

“I thought I finally had Howard beat on the Sousa issue, that no one who would fall for that ploy should be cleared to work for our agency,” Peggy explained, exasperated. “The problem is that Howard thinks our Agent Overhill looks awfully familiar.”

“He didn’t!” Angie gasped.

“We’re afraid he may have,” Peggy said. “He cannot, however, recall how he met her, or where, or when. Mr. Jarvis is currently trying to help him jog his memory. Hopefully he’ll be able to remember something useful; who knows what Howard may have let slip.”

Angie cringed, thinking of the times she had seen Howard Stark trying to flirt over the months that she’d known him. He had a tendency towards bragging and name dropping even at the best of times.

“Come on, I don’t think we’re going to get much else done tonight,” Peggy said, offering her hand to Angie. “Let me take you home, we both need to get some rest.”

Angie went to Peggy’s office to grab her bag, while Peggy went to Howard’s office to say goodbye to Howard and Jarvis.

On Peggy’s desk was a page of thick paper covered in Peggy’s lovely handwriting that Angie hadn’t seen before. Peggy wasn’t someone who would leave sensitive documents sitting in plain sight even in her own office, so Angie went to take a closer look. On it, Peggy had listed every one of the fake agency titles that she and Angie had come up with, along with a few additional ones, including ones that spelled out J.A.R.V.I.S. and S.T.E.V.E. that Angie guessed had come from Peggy’s conversations with Howard.

“We’ve sent Rose home, as well,” Peggy announced, as she entered the room. “She said she can’t wait to start officially if it’s going to be like this around here all the time.”

Angie lift up the page to show Peggy what she was looking at. Peggy paused when she saw what it was.

“Oh, that. It has been pointed out to me that my office could use more in the way of decoration,” Peggy explained. “I thought I could frame it and put it on the wall, for whenever I need a good laugh.”

Angie couldn’t help but smile and laugh at that. “It’s working already,” she said.

 

Rose had been sent back to New York with very explicit instructions to observe Agent Overhill when she could, but that she was not to engage her, and she was not alert anyone within the SSR about what S.H.I.E.L.D. now suspected. They didn’t want anyone to tip Dottie off that she had been discovered.

One of Rose’s greatest assets was her ability to escape people’s notice if they weren’t paying attention, so Rose very quietly put in her two weeks’ notice at the SSR, and started gathering information.

Meanwhile, Howard finally remembered that he had met Dottie Underwood at a charity event in New York a couple of months before she had moved into Angie’s building. While Jarvis tried to help him remember what exactly he had said to her, Angie started texting Vera back in New York to ask her what she could remember about their old neighbor.

Vera called her back to say that the only thing of interest that she could remember was that she had once mentioned Angie’s crush on Peggy to Dottie, mostly just to see if the idea of lesbians weirded the conservative girl out. Apparently, Dottie had just nodded at first, before shifting and acting uncomfortable, as though belatedly realizing that she was supposed to find that odd.

“I knew it!” Angie proclaimed. “I knew that sheltered farmgirl thing was just an act!”

“Really, Angie?” Vera asked. “What new conspiracy theory are you onto now?”

“She vanished suddenly, without even leaving a forwarding address!” Angie argued.

“I knew you moving to Washington was a bad idea,” Vera told her. “You’re in the land of the Illuminati down there.”

They finally caught her by luring her into a trap.

The plan started with Rose letting it slip to Agent Sousa, that she was leaving the SSR.

Rose later told Angie that she had finally gotten him alone in an elevator and told him that he was one of the few that she was actually going to miss. Sousa, surprised, tried to ask more questions about where she was going, but Rose backpedaled, acting as though she had already said too much. She had said that she didn’t want anyone to know that she was going or to make a big deal of it.

Agent Sousa, his interest suitably piqued, did some digging and found out that Rose had taken a job with S.H.I.E.L.D., and furthermore that S.H.I.E.L.D. was being headed by Peggy Carter and Howard Stark. Agent Sousa inevitably told all of this to his girlfriend, Agent Maggie Overhill, who immediately got on a plane to DC.

She was caught trying to break into S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters and was immediately detained.

Daniel Sousa showed up a few days later. Unlike his girlfriend, he entered the building through the front door, during daylight hours. To absolutely no one’s surprise, he was looking for a job.

Peggy had texted Angie when it happened, so by the time she got home from work, Angie was eager for details.

“So?” Angie asked. “Did you give him the job or not?”

“We told him we’d have to think about it,” Peggy said evenly. “There are a lot of issues to consider.”

“You’re bluffing,” Angie said. “Howard loves him, and you need to hire more agents with actual field experience.”

“We don’t want to hire too many former SSR agents, though,” Peggy argued. “We don’t just want to recreate that disaster of an agency in a new city, and once the rest of the intelligence agency finds out about Agent Overhill, the SSR will fall apart completely. Once the SSR is officially gone, every agent they employed is going to come straight to me, suddenly wanting to switch sides, and I won’t be taking in all of them.”

“Do you really think it’s going to collapse so soon? The whole thing?” Angie asked.

“I was practically running my division of the SSR before I left; doing all of the work and getting none of the credit,” Peggy explained, her voice going colder. “No one gave me any respect, and I was passed over for promotion again and again. On top of everything else, everyone kept assuming that at any minute, I was going to get married and start having babies. I was so tired of waiting for my shot to prove myself.”

“You’re going to torture all of them, aren’t you?” Angie asked, a sly smile growing on her lips.

“I have a list,” Peggy told her. “I already know exactly who I am and am not willing to hire. I’m still going to interview every single one of them, just to see them beg for their jobs.”

“Seriously?” Angie asked. She was still surprised at how cold Peggy could be when she needed to. “Aren’t you just going to make more enemies doing that?”

“Don’t worry, I know just what I’m doing,” Peggy assured her. “And I have an excellent poker face.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Angie said. “You know that no matter what you try to make S.H.I.E.L.D., not every agency out there is a meritocracy. Some of the agents you reject are just going to end up climbing the ranks somewhere else, that’s just the nature of the politics here.”

“Do you know why Rose and I are so close?” Peggy asked. “We’ve both caught each other crying in the toilet. These days, I have no cause to cry at work. If I did, though, I wouldn’t need to hide in the ladies room anymore, I can cry in my own damn office.”

“Okay, yeah,” Angie agreed. “Fuck those guys. They deserve whatever you throw at them.”

Peggy laughed quietly to herself.

“What?” Angie asked, wanting to know what was so funny.

“If they try and throw it back at me again, I’ll be okay,” Peggy said, smiling. “You know why? I’ll have a S.H.I.E.L.D.”  

Peggy laughed again, and Angie joined in, her laugh infectious. She thought of how serious and guarded Peggy had been when they first met, when she was still working at the SSR. She was so much lighter now, she was finally free of that place, and Angie couldn’t be happier for her.


End file.
